#but I'm thinking about getting unique with things

[mylovesstuffs]

This was an absolutely unhinged delight from start to finish—equal parts hilarious, unholy, and unexpectedly sweet in the most absurd way. The premise alone [hot ghost Jeonghan possessing Seungkwan to meddle in your dry spell] sets the tone for 11k of supernatural tomfoolery, and unhinged yet oddly charming ghost shenanigans. I fucking loved him all the way!

This wad balanced raunchy smut with comedic timing like, there are genuinely laugh-out-loud moments [the puns!! the Jeonghan commentary!!!], but the actual intimacy is still hot enough to make you question your moral compass. Also, the way Jeonghan’s ghost is written is menacingly flirtatious menace energy, but in a way that makes you kinda root for him?? Though I was hoping for a little scene of his in the morning 😔

Seungkwan’s involvement [wow, I'm really saying, 'involvenent when it's actually his fic— 😭] adds this perfect grounding element, bringing a layer of awkward humanity that complements Jeonghan’s menace behaviour—and y/n's reactions just tie the whole mess together with horny little bow lol

If you’re into supernatural crackfics with smut that goes harder than it has any right to, clever writing, and three characters that remain charming despite being part of an ethically questionable ghost-human-possessed threesome… this fic will 100% possess your heart [and other things].

Under the cut contains spoilers and my commentary while I was reading.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. — tf?????

dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.— true, can't disagree with this !

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.— help 😭

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."— fr. Both are unhinged lol

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.— both both

He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, — I love how describe this Jeonghan ghost.

“Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”— I think so, too. 100% agree with ghostie.

“It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”— whoa I love how it is. How ghosts work lmao. Genuinely so interested in ghosts rn.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.— I'm honestly very curious of Jeonghan's life, what happened and how he died and all of that.

And now it was going to lead you to get laid.— LMAO YES.

‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’— Jeonghan, I shouldn't laugh but why are you like this? 😭

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’— 😭 well, I don't have you, who will safe me when I'm, too, pathetically embarrassing myself like yn??

and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."— oh my god, Jeonghan is such a flirt, such a player, such a pro! The playing with the hen of his shirt??! Omg.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”— JEONGHAN!!! 💀

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?”— he's so cute 🥺

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm.— did Jeonghan take over???

‘It was so painful to watch.’ — lmao 😭😭😭😭

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.— Jeonghan!!! 😭 In a way, it's you seducing Kwan and not yn—

“You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”— bold...

“...yes. God, yes.”— YES SEUNGKWAN YES! YOU'RE MY MAN.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins— poetic.

expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.— oooohhh, I'm sensing something 😏💀

where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.— oh my god 😳😳😳

baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven.— I love the description so much 🥲

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.” — is he back to his, 'human' form? 💀😳

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.— omg he's in Seungkwan 💀

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”— oh my god why am I giggling so much adheedcjyesfjte.

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”— yeah I think so too but why is he so confident? 🤨🫢

“especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”— uffff yes please. We agree.

boo-ty call 👻 (m)

Pairing: perverted ghost!jeonghan x cute neighbor!seungkwan x afab!reader Genre: supernatural comedy, smut Word count: 11.1k tags: a lot of puns, human body possession (con and dubcon), threesome by definition if you count a ghost, mention of food, cunnilingus, some degrading (slut), light spanking, unprotected sex Summary: As far as unwanted roommates go, your ghostly companion was one you never anticipated. But when this specter began to assert himself and meddle in your dating life—or lack thereof—you started to reconsider your stance; maybe having a roommate wasn’t so bad after all. Especially if he's helping you get laid. author note: it's sluttober! when did i last write anything and have it posted. that's crazy sorry about that yall, but i'm really trying my best to be more active, but ngl its hard. life really gets in the way and we have to remind ourselves to take a back sometimes, even from our hobbies. Thank you to @multi-kpop-fanfics and @seokgyuu for beta reading and helping me perfect this masterpiece and thank you to you guys for your patience. Enjoy! Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone

You should’ve known better than to find an apartment listing in the same place where people get lied to about the types of dogs they’re buying. To this day, your aunt is convinced her Chorkie is supposed to be pure Maltese.

Meanwhile, you’re about 99.999% sure your apartment is haunted, and whatever ghost this was, they really liked stealing your underwear. It should’ve scared you. It should’ve driven you away and rushed you out to find a newer, less haunted place to live. But it was cheap, fully furnished, and came with a walkable laundromat and a family-owned market with homegrown tomatoes. Nothing could beat that.

You could tolerate it. It was better than mooching off your parents, who ask every five minutes when you’ll get a 'real' job. Living away from your parents was necessary for your sanity and a dead pervert is much preferable to a live one.

“Can you fucking stop leaving the bathroom light on? I get that haunting is your job and all, but you’re not the one paying the electricity bill.”

If anyone could see you talking to thin air right now, they would’ve had you committed.

“And while we’re at it, could you stop stealing the lacy underwear? They’re gifts, and I don’t wear them, but I might someday, so leave me the option!”

The hallway light flickered before it finally stopped and swift air breezed past you in response, but no returning underwear. You let out a frustrated sigh and shove the rest of your dirty clothes into the hamper before proceeding with laundry day. 

You’ve never seen any part of them, yet you’re always aware of their presence. It was creepy at first, but that quickly turned into annoyance when you realized how limited their grasp on the living world truly was—just a bit of theft and light tinkering. It was manageable, but you still felt uneasy knowing you couldn’t change without feeling watched.

“I’ll be back. Don’t piss me off more when I do. It is not my week.”

Not a day had passed since you two became acquainted that he didn’t find some way to bother you, but there were definite perks to living in hell’s best apartment lease. As your feet scraped across the tiled floor, the afternoon sun briefly flushed your skin, and a familiar flutter stirred in your chest as the thought of something popped into your head. Instead of the usual contempt, longing filled your chest as you made your way to the machine.

“What do we have today, m’dear?”

Your ears perked up at the sound of his voice, and you pretended to nonchalantly turn around, as if you hadn’t just spent several minutes hoping for his appearance. “Oh, you know, the usual—interview clothes, some sweatpants, and a few coffee-stained rags.”

Seungkwan’s lips curled into a soft chuckle, his laugh warm as he tossed his own laundry into the machine beside yours. “Sounds spicy. Mrs. Whirlpool is in for a gourmet meal today.”

He said the weirdest, most ridiculous things, but the real mystery was how you still ended up wanting to kiss him anyway. There was something about his easy smile, the effortless way he tossed his dress shirt into the machine like it was some kind of party trick.

He had a knack for brightening the atmosphere as if he possessed a magnetic otherworldly charm. Whenever you arrived, you couldn't help but wish he would be there, transforming the ordinary task of laundry into an intimate little affair—just the two of you amidst a heap of dirty clothes.

You observed him from the side, noting that his stack of clothes was noticeably smaller than usual. This made you question why he would wash such a small load. “Today isn't your regular laundry day. It’s usually Fridays and Mondays, isn't it? Today’s Thursday.”

The second the words left your mouth, you cringed internally. Great. Way to sound like a total stalker. Creep much?

Seungkwan cocked a smile. “I’m flattered you’ve memorized my laundry schedule.”

You laughed awkwardly, scrambling for cover. “I pass by here and just happen to have a really great memory.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, this might sound kind of gross and embarrassing, but I found these abandoned at the back of my closet. They’ve been there forever, and I had some extra change, so I figured, why not? You know, especially since I’ll be gone at the end of October.”

“You’ll be gone for Halloween?” Well, don’t sound too disappointed.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan said with a soft chuckle, glancing your way. “Family traditions. Can’t miss them. You know, the usual—handing out candy, our neighborhood haunted house contest, all that.”

“That sounds like so much fun. Way better than my Halloween growing up.” 

“Aw, thanks, but trust me, it’s way more chaotic than it sounds. Kids screaming, neighbors going overboard with decorations—it’s a lot." He shrugged as he folded his laundry, a hint of nostalgia creeping into his tone. “What about you? Got any plans?”

“Um… I’m not sure yet. Still figuring it out, I guess,” you answered earnestly, suddenly feeling like a loser with no plans–which you were by definition.

Seungkwan hesitated, his hands stilling mid-fold, the fabric dangling loosely between his fingers. You could see something flickering in his eyes—a jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind like a muddled cloud, visible in the furrow of his brow. “Oh. Well, um…” His voice trailed off, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if he were battling whether or not to say what was really on his mind.

"What?" Your curiosity spiked, your heart quickening as you waited for him to continue. For a moment, the only sound was the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall, stretching the already lingering silence.

He quickly shook his head, offering a faint, almost apologetic smile before turning back to his laundry, his hands moving again, but less sure than before. “Nothing. Just—never mind.”

“Oh, okay.” The disappointment weighed on you, heavier than you wanted to admit. You glanced at the washing machines, trying to focus on the steady hum of the cycles, but your eyes kept drifting back to the numbers, slowly counting the seconds until the minutes ticked over, all while the silence between you grew louder.

You finished your load long before Seungkwan could wrap up his, the awkward tension of unfinished business hanging in the air like a thick fog. You glanced at him, hesitating for a moment before mustering a tight smile, trying to shake off the discomfort. “Well, that’s it for me. See you around, Seungkwan.”

He looked up from his laundry, the corners of his lips tugging down slightly. "See you, neighbor," he said, his tone laced with a hint of regret. The moment lingered in the air between you, thick with unspoken words, making it even harder to walk away.

With one last glance at his face, you stepped back, the soft chime of the door ringing behind you as you passed their glass doors.

As you walked  back toward your apartment, you couldn’t help but drop in confidence, thinking to yourself that maybe you didn’t deserve good things like cute laundromat boy. The hallway felt more confining than usual, the walls seeming to close in, echoing the insecure thoughts making rounds in your head.

You leaned against the cheaply painted walls of your cramped apartment, sliding down to sit on the floor with your head in your hands. It was just a childish crush—fleeting and meaningless—yet the thought of him going away scared you more than any real-life danger you'd ever faced. He was the only upside to moving to this part of town, the one thing that made the mundane feel even remotely worthwhile.

As you sat on the vinyl floor, you could still picture the sparkle in his eyes when he first opened those double doors, the warmth of his voice as he introduced himself. What had once been just laundry had turned into something to look forward to, a small break from the routine and a chance to brighten up your day in this sparse town. 

Maybe, if you were lucky, it could turn into a little small-town romance. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if he even saw you beyond the casual pleasantries. Did he just see you as another neighbor, or maybe just a friendly face? 

The familiar flickering light in the kitchen pulled you back to the reality and up from the ground of your haunted apartment. With a frustrated sigh, you turned your attention to your unwanted roommate. “Yeah, yeah, I’m home,” you muttered, trying to shake off the feeling of melancholy.

As you walked toward the living room, the flickering lightbulbs in the lamps followed your path, their erratic dance a reminder of the presence that lingered in your space. Maybe getting rid of them wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. It could be a way to finally cut ties with the ghost that seemed determined to remind you of your solitude. You chuckled softly at the thought. Perhaps an exorcism could clear out both the ghost and all the pointless overthinking.

But that was a problem for another day. Rotting in bed sounded far more appealing right now. You shuffled into your room, the soft glow from the streetlamp spilling in through the window, casting faint shadows on the walls as the evening deepened. The coolness of the night crept in slowly, the faint hum of the city blending into the background.

As you sank into the familiar embrace of your blankets, the exhaustion in your limbs finally settled, but your mind lingered for a moment longer. You glanced outside, the dim light catching in the leaves of the trees below, and for a fleeting second were at peace. No ghosts, no old washers or dryers, no obsessive crush. Just sleep.

You sighed, pulling the covers tighter around you, letting the hum of old furnishing–and probably the old pervert ghost–as you drifted off into sleep.

Your rest was cut short by a full bladder, ready to burst. With heavy eyelids, you stumbled toward the bathroom, barely aware of your surroundings. As you relieved yourself, everything felt normal—the creaking of the bathroom door, the sporadic running of the faucet, and the occasional flickering of the lights above, indicating his restless presence.

You groaned, rubbing your eyes with your fists. “This wasn’t an invitation, Casper,” you muttered, irritation creeping into your voice.

As if to taunt you, the faucet suddenly turned on full blast, running wildly before shutting off completely, leaving you with nothing but the simmering annoyance bubbling inside of you. With a frustrated huff, you quickly flushed the toilet and turned to the mirror. The lone reflection staring back at you looked as tired as you felt.

With dark circles under your eyes and a complexion that could only be described as dull, it was starting to feel like you were one bad hair day away from getting "gave up" tattooed across your forehead. And suddenly you were wondering whether you looked more dead than the ghost.

Instead of wallowing more self-pity, you washed your hands under the running faucet. If the ghost wanted to bother you, it certainly wasn’t going to be about your hygiene. You kept that on lock.

You glanced back at the mirror and no longer were you alone. Instead, where your reflection should have been was the unsettling visage of your ghost, staring back at you with a smirk that sent a shiver down your spine. His pale features were striking, almost ethereal, with an undeniable charm that twisted your gut. Those mischievous eyes sparkled with a playful malevolence.

Your ghost was attractive–strikingly so–and for some reason that made you dislike him even more.

You shot your shared reflection an unamused smile. “Was that supposed to scare me?”

His reflection chuckled, leaning over his sink to give you an unfiltered view of every extraordinary detail etched into his face like a sculpture. “What? I thought I could finally introduce myself.”

“After months of me already living here? I feel the moment has passed,” you shot back, crossing your arms in defiance.

“Well, I had to pass my own judgment, didn't I? Do you know how many coke-huffing, cheese puff-grubbing, athlete-foot-walking slobs I’ve encountered in my place of residence?” He leaned closer, his expression mockingly serious, the flickering light casting playful shadows across his sharp cheekbones.

“May I remind you that those people were renters? If they paid to be there, who were you to deny them that?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Like I didn’t pay when I was alive? Plus, Muriel definitely wasn’t paying, nor was Monty. They were beyond sketchy.” He rolled his eyes dramatically, clearly relishing the chance to air his grievances from beyond the grave. “Now that I think about it, there was definitely some laundry going on around here—and I’m not just talking about your underwear strewn all over the place.”

“Thanks for the reminder. Would you please leave the undergarments alone?” you replied, trying to keep the irritation from creeping into your voice as if you didn’t sound crazy enough talking into a mirror.

He shrugged nonchalantly, the flickering light casting shadows across his smirking face. “I will once you learn to toss them in the hamper like a normal humie. Upside to being dead: no laundry.”

“I don’t have to take this from someone who can’t even wear underwear anymore.”

“So you assumed I died without any on? How morbidly perverted of you.” His playful smile widened.

You scoffed, incredulous at the absurdity of the conversation you were having—with a ghost of all people.

“You know I’m right…I could sense your heart racing the moment you laid eyes on me,” he teased, a playful grin dancing across his lips as his jaw hung slightly slack in intrigue. His gaze swept over you, lingering on the way your breath caught in your throat, as if he were drinking in every detail, alive in the way his eyes glowed with mischief despite their soulless depths.

His ghostly figure was lean and toned, the contours of his form faintly visible like a lingering shadow, brimming with an energy that felt both alluring and infuriating. The flickering light cast an ethereal glow around him, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaws and the way his seemingly wet hair fell carelessly over his forehead. He leaned closer, the air thickening with a mix of annoyance and something dangerously enticing as if he relished the effect he had on you.

“Are you…flirting with me?” You couldn’t believe you had to ask, but the glint in his eye was undeniable.

“It’s not illegal. Not in the afterlife, anyway. Anything goes here.” He leaned back against the sink, bloodless veins pulsing against his forearms, enjoying the encounter more than he should.

“I…need sleep.” 

You peeled yourself away from the mirror, shaking your head in disbelief, and headed to bed without looking back. You slipped through the sheets, found comfort in their familiarity, and sighed, thinking you escaped.

“You know—”

“Jesus!” you burst out, your heart racing as you instinctively clutched your chest. Opening your eyes, you found the ghost looming above you, his expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “What now?”

“Walking to a different room isn’t exactly a proper goodnight,” he said, crossing his arms over his spectral chest as if he were the arbiter of etiquette in the afterlife. His expression was mock-serious, and the playful glint in his eyes suggested he found the whole situation amusing.

“As if ghosts even sleep?” you shot back, rolling your eyes.

“No, but it’s polite,” he replied, feigning indignation, the corners of his mouth twitching upward in a barely contained grin.

“Is this going to keep happening? You annoy me until I scrape together enough money to move out, or, if I’m not fortunate, end up penniless and homeless,” you lamented, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you threw your hands up in frustration.

“You tell me.”

With a sigh, you shut your eyes again and threw the blanket over your head, seeking refuge. “At least save it for the morning.”

And the ghost did just that—he saved all of it for the morning, better yet the afternoon. Since that’s when you woke up anyways.

“Do people always eat breakfast past two p.m., or is that a recent trend from the last two decades?” his voice called, cutting through the haze of your half-sleep as you started to eat 

“How old are you even?” you mumbled, cereal gnashing between your teeth.

“Old enough to know that you need more than cereal to sustain a healthy human body.”

“Riveting,” you muttered sarcastically, sipping the milk from the bowl. “Next, you’ll tell me that ‘ghosting’ is a real thing in your realm, too.”

“Actually, it is,” he retorts, his presence somehow stronger than it was in front of a mirror, “Happen to be doing it right now. Having some fun.”

“Is that your idea of fun? Stalking me from beyond the grave?”

“Call it what you want, but I’m just trying to keep you company,” he replied, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from a spoon. “Besides, who else is going to breathe some life into your dull existence other than someone who’s already checked out of theirs?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms with a playful huff. “Great. Just what I need—my own ghostly life coach. What’s next? A seminar on the benefits of double-scrubbing the bathtub?

It was meaningless stuff, really. The kind of chatter that filled the air like background noise, a gentle distraction from the world outside your walls. Yet, for someone who was supposed to be dead, he had an uncanny knack for conversation, it only made you assume the type of person he was alive. He could turn the mundane into clear images, painting vivid pictures with his stories about the afterlife—or, more accurately, his gripes about it. Not that you asked for it, but, it was like being told a grand story. Stories you could not for the life of you stop listening to for some reason.

“Okay, ghostie—”

“Jeonghan,” he corrected. “Say it with me slowly. Jeong. Han.”

“Mmh, ghostie! I’ll be back after the laundry is done.”

“No way you’re saving money with how often you—”

“Bye bye, poltergeist!” You cut him off with a wave, stepping out with a load full of laundry.

You had noticed how quickly the days were slipping by, how time seemed to blur when you shared your space with someone—or rather, something—that could actually respond to you in real-time. It was a strange kind of companionship, one that made you forget just how much solitude had weighed on you before.

The passing days also reminded you just how much you needed a breather, to clear your head from this bizarre living arrangement. And somehow, your laundry had piled up, more than it ever should have for someone unemployed who barely left the house. It was odd. Almost like time itself was moving faster, dragging the mess along with it.

“Hey, right on schedule—Thursdays and every other Monday and today’s Monday..”

You almost forgot about Seungkwan amidst all the supernatural nonsense swirling around you, but seeing him brought back memories of your last encounter, and you quickly put on a smile. “Hey there! Look at you, recognizing my laundry schedule too.”

“Thought I’d return the favor since you were kind enough to remember mine. Hope that’s okay,” he replied, his tone light.

You piled your laundry into the machine, carefully measuring out some freshly opened detergent. “It is.”

“Okay… I just want to apologize for being weird the last time we talked,” he said, shifting slightly as he leaned against the machine, his expression turning a bit more serious. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you assured him.

“I just… I don’t know.” He glanced down at the floor, his brows furrowing slightly. “My mind went blank, if I’m being honest.”

You smiled reassuringly. “I get that. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

He looked up, a playful grin spreading across his face. “So you think I’m pretty?”

Fuck. “It’s… just an expression.”

He leaned against his machine, his gaze fixed on you. “Didn’t deny it, though.”

You chuckled, feigning exasperation and mirroring his posture against your own machine. “You’re a lot more cocky than I realized, Mr. Seungkwan.”

“Do you like that?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were left speechless. Your mouth dropped open in surprise as your thoughts bounced from one corner of your mind to the other until finally, they found themselves running down between your legs in a new form of discomfort. “Umm…” 

You turned away for a moment, breathing to steady yourself, gently patting away your very alive heart.

“I made it weird again, didn’t I?” he said, his voice laced with a hint of regret.

You spun back around, shaking your head. “No. No! It just took me by surprise.”

“Sorry about that.” Not sounding all that sorry.

“That’s…more than I’m used to,” you admitted, a slight heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“Thank you?” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips.

You let out a soft laugh, the sound brightening the air between you and making the moment feel lighter and more vibrant. Just then, the machine beeped, a sharp sound signaling that your clothes were done, pulling you away from the heated exchange.

A comfortable silence enveloped you both, but this time it felt different—like the crackling of kindling in the perfect moment when fireflies come out, illuminating the night as brightly as the stars in the sky. You exchanged a quiet glance, catching a glint reminiscent of those stars in his gaze, and for a second, it felt like the universe was telling you, ‘Hey, maybe there's something here.’

When you finally turned to leave, your smile was the biggest you’d ever had. And when he matched yours, it was like you had just won a bizarre lottery. You probably looked a bit unhinged, standing there grinning at nothing while swaying in the damp weather, but you didn’t care. The butterflies in your stomach danced happily, and you found yourself wishing you could hold on to this moment just a little longer, savoring the warmth it brought.

“You look happy.”

Not even the Ghostbusters’ final boss could ruin that for you.

“Cram it, Beetlejuice Lite,” you shot back, because although you’re in a good mood, you relished finding new names to call Jeonghan besides his own.

You hummed to yourself as you folded and neatly put away your clothes, feeling his cool, lingering presence behind you. He watched, like always—probably thinking up who put sugar in your cereal this morning for you to be in such an uppity mood.

“Well, I’ll be. You’re actually putting your clothes away like a functional human being?” His voice oozed mock surprise, but today, it just rolled right off you.

“Yep! Just felt like it,” you replied cheerfully, sliding the last of the shirts into your drawer with a satisfied nod.

“Strange. I thought laundry was your natural habitat now, seeing how often you’re in there… but I guess that’s thanks to a certain ‘living,’” 

You snapped your drawer shut, the sound echoing through the room as you whipped around to glare at him, immediately pulling you away from the happiness you felt not that long ago. “You—”

“Seungkwan, wasn’t it? Cute kid. Didn’t quite peg him as your type, though.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

Your eyes narrowed, heart doing an involuntary somersault. Of course, he’d noticed. He seemed to notice everything, like some twisted version of a nosy neighbor, only this one didn’t have the decency to keep his opinions to himself. You wanted to fire back, but your brain was moving a step too slow, still caught up on the casual way he dropped Seungkwan's name. How long had he been watching you both at the laundromat?

“You’re stalking me outside of the apartment now?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“My spirit may be bound to this place,” he replied with an air of nonchalance, “but my soul can roam as it pleases.”

“Spirit? Soul? Aren’t they the same thing?”

He tilted his head, giving you a patronizing smile. “Not quite. My soul travels freely, observing everything within a reasonable distance—it’s not tethered to the apartment like my spirit is. My spirit stays here, out of my control.”

“So, you spied on me just because you could?”

"Call it research. Gathering intel." He shrugged. "Besides, it's not like you were doing anything interesting."

"Oh, I'm so glad I could provide you with such riveting entertainment.”

You shook your head, leaving the bedroom and closing the door behind you, only to have Jeonghan pass through it. "You know, for a ghost, you're surprisingly annoying."

"For a flesh-and-blood mortal, you're remarkably unfazed," he observes, his ethereal voice echoing slightly. "Most wouldn't last a day with my...unique brand of housekeeping."

You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, well, I'm not most people."

“So,” he began, “about this Seungkwan guy…”

You stiffened, feeling your cheeks heat up. “What about him?”

“Just curious,” he replied casually, though there was a glint in his eyes. “He seems... nice.”

“He is,” you mumbled, suddenly finding your laundry far more interesting than the conversation again.

“And you like him?”

Your heart raced in your chest. “I don’t know,” you admitted, the words almost sticking in your throat. “Maybe.”

“Does he like you?”

You hesitated, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. “…I don’t know yet.”

There was a beat of silence before he offered, “Want some help with that?”

“No. What? How would you even do that?” You narrowed your eyes, already regretting entertaining this conversation.

He started circling you, wearing a grin that screamed trouble, like a cat ready to pounce. “The only time my soul and spirit are truly joined,” he began in a low, conspiratorial tone, “is when I possess a body and take control of their flesh.”

You rolled your eyes. “Where is this going, Bloody Maury? Skip to the part that makes sense.”

He stopped directly in front of you, arms crossed. “Well, if you’re interested in ‘skipping to the good parts,’ I could possess your body. Help you say what’ll win over Seungkwan in no time.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Why in the hell would I be dumb enough to let you do that?”

He snickered, leaning in with a smug look. “Because you’re desperate and haven’t slept with anyone the entire time we’ve lived together.”

“…You talk too much.”

“Think about it,” he continued, unbothered by your glare. “You’ve already got a foot in the door with him. You just need a little boost. I can help.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “This sounds like some high-level scheme to take over my body. Then I’ll end up stuck sharing it with a ghost, screaming into the depths of my soul for eternity. Thanks, but no thanks.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ve been watching too much supernatural TV. And besides, if I wanted to possess your body for good, I would’ve done it a long time ago. I do have some principles, you know. Consent and all.”

You shook your head, unimpressed. “Nope. I still can’t trust you, ghostie.”

Jeonghan, ever the persistent undead, didn’t know the meaning of giving up—and by now, you should’ve expected as much. And maybe, just maybe, his constant, incessant persuading was starting to wear you down. Sharing the same space day in and day out gave him the upper hand. He knew your quirks, your weak spots—the best and worst parts of you.

These past few days, you weren’t sure if you were going insane by agreeing with a ghost, or if he was actually starting to make some sense.

As you stared off at him, basking in the cool autumn air slipping through the balcony, you started to wonder if his intentions were not as venomous or malicious as you initially thought. There was a strange, quiet sadness in his eyes as if he longed for something he couldn’t put into words. Something that you couldn’t understand even if you tried.

“Am I really so pathetic that the ‘phantom reject’ is willing to help me with my love life?”

Jeonghan glanced at you with mild interest, noticing the way your curiosity had piqued. You sat comfortably on the couch, your elbow propped on the armrest, cheek nestled in your palm, as you observed him. He quietly approached, given that his feet were intangible and didn’t reach the ground, the silence was deafening and he lowered his head to level with you, staring back at you with so much intent it burned to feel his gaze.

He titled his head, brimming with pride. “Well, let’s just say I’ve never been rejected in my life. So.”

“You really think this’ll work for me?”you asked, skepticism lacing your tone.

“Of course,” he replied, with a grin. “You’ve got me.”

You were really considering it—letting a ghost help with your love life. Was this truly insane? Maybe. But it felt like it was worth a shot.

God, this was pathetic. And for once, you had something to be genuinely afraid of. And funny enough, it wasn’t possession. Until, well… maybe it was.

Life had never quite prepared you for this. Standing in your bedroom, surrounded by the overflowing pile of dirty clothes in the corner, you realized you’d put this off long enough—both the laundry and the body possession. You let out a shaky breath, glancing nervously from the mess to Jeonghan. 

His presence loomed, just as insistent as the neglected chores, and you had to steady yourself, mentally sorting through how you’d ended up in this bizarre situation. Laundry? Fine. Ghost possession? Not something you thought was possible. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to assess the ridiculousness of it all.

“Okay, Grim Peeper, let’s do this.”

Jeonghan chuckled softly as you tried, and failed, to shake off the nerves. His movements were deliberate as he approached, eyes narrowing in focus. He watched how the tension gripped your shoulders, the way your breath quickened despite your best efforts to stay calm. His presence felt heavier, and as he took his position in front of you, the air around him seemed to still. 

You could feel the weight of what was about to happen, the looming absurdity of it all. Jeonghan, who usually exuded a kind of careless charm, now looked oddly concentrated, as if he were preparing for something he rarely had the chance to do. His expression, though still smug, carried a certain gravity. But in all honesty, he wasn’t really sure what to expect.

“I’m about to make contact,” Jeonghan said, his tone unusually serious. “It’s going to feel a bit disorienting at first—like a cold shiver running down your spine. But after a few seconds, your mind will adjust, and it’ll feel like nothing ever happened. My voice will echo in your head, almost like it’s your own thoughts. I’ll let you know when it’s me taking control.”

His hands hovered over your shoulders, a ghostly chill brushing against your skin. For a split second, there was something oddly reassuring in his dead, sullen eyes. "You'll be okay. I promise, nothing will go wrong."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down. "Alright, I trust you." Then you glanced at him, a small smirk forming. "But seriously, what do you get out of all this? Helping me, I mean. I won’t judge... Boo-dini."

He let out a short laugh, tilting his head slightly as if considering how to answer. “I…want to remember what it’s like to feel alive again. See what I missed out on.”

“That’s fair,” you nodded, understandably.

“Expected more from me, humie?”

You shrugged. “Thought you’d have a deeper back story, but that’s fine.”

Jeonghan scoffed softly, giving you a teasing smirk before he began. In an instant, he was there—and then he wasn’t. The shift was so sudden it left you reeling. Just as he’d predicted, a shiver rippled down your spine, cold and unsettling. But what he hadn’t mentioned were the flashes of unfamiliar images that flickered behind your eyes, moments you’d never lived but somehow felt were real.

They came and went so fast, you couldn’t make sense of them—fleeting fragments of his past, perhaps, or echoes of something even older.

‘How are you?’ he voice said, interrupting your thoughts.

You quietly nodded, reassuring him.

‘Very well then. Your lead, dear host.’

You wandered into the laundromat with your overstuffed hamper, feeling a bit like a laundry pirate hauling treasure—or dirty socks—across the high seas. You’d made the executive–and rightfully cowardly–decision to skip your usual laundry day, and now it was leading up to this very moment. Jeonghan stayed mostly dormant in your body as you claimed an empty machine, the back of your head itchy knowing another being was sharing your body that has led you this far. And now it was going to lead you to get laid.

It was like clockwork. Any minute now, Seungkwan would stroll in, and Jeonghan would take over, handling all the nerve-wracking nonsense you'd rather avoid.

‘Don’t be nervous,’ his voice echoed, ‘I almost thought it was my own heart racing, then I remembered I’m dead.’

“Sorry,” you muttered softly under your breath, ignoring the supernatural’s attempt at a joke.

‘It’s fine. Everything will be fine.’

“I know,” you sighed.

“You know what?”

You spun around, facing Seungkwan, who’d entered with that casual, friendly energy you always admired. He smiled, raising an eyebrow at your startled expression.

"Seungkwan!" you blurted out, trying to push the embarrassment down as far as it would go.

“Hey, neighbor,” he greeted, already moving toward his machine, gently separating colors from whites. “How are you?”

“Good—Great! Why do you ask?”

He gave you a light shrug, glancing up with a playful grin. “Just sounded like you were talking to yourself.”

“Well, who doesn’t?” you quipped, trying to play it cool. “Sometimes thinking out loud helps clear the head noise, right?”

“Right,” he said, stretching with an amused smile, clearly entertained by your odd, jittery energy.

‘Wow, thank god you have me.’

You quietly cursed Jeonghan in your head for making this harder than it needed to be, before mustering up the nerve to approach Seungkwan, fingers nervously fidgeting.

"Hey, so... you mentioned you were going to be out of town for Halloween, right?"

Seungkwan looked up, surprised and then grinned. "You remembered! Yeah, what’s up?"

You hesitated for a second, feeling Jeonghan’s smug presence lingering somewhere in the back of your mind. "I thought..."

Seungkwan leaned casually against the now-humming washer, hands tucked in his pockets, his curious gaze fixed on you. "Yeah?"

You tried to keep your cool, but the moment the words "we could do something" left your mouth, your brain started to short-circuit. Seungkwan turned to you with that easygoing grin of his, waiting for you to elaborate, and you could already feel the awkwardness creeping in.

Jeonghan’s voice chimed in, ‘You’re fumbling. Let me take over.’

Before you could protest, the familiar shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly, everything felt distant—your limbs moved, but you weren't fully in control anymore.

Jeonghan’s smooth voice came out of your mouth as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I was thinking, maybe we could hang out before you head out of town? You know, catch a movie, grab a drink, something low-key, say my place?"

Seungkwan's smile widened, surprised but clearly intrigued. "You want to hang out with me?”

Jeonghan, still in control of your voice, replied effortlessly, "Of course." Before you could even process what was happening, your feet began to move on their own, gliding across the floor like a spy on a secret mission. Jeonghan closed the distance between you and Seungkwan, and suddenly, your hands were fidgeting with the hem of Seungkwan's shirt. “I figure it’s a good excuse to steal some of your time before Halloween hits."

Your heart raced, and you mentally screamed at Jeonghan, Okay, okay, that’s enough! I can take it from here!

But he was on a roll. "Tomorrow?" Seungkwan asked, leaning casually against the washing machine, though the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot betrayed his nervousness. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

"Tomorrow’s perfect," Jeonghan responded smoothly, maintaining the effortless flow of the conversation. "I’ll text you the details."

With each word, your body felt like it was moving on autopilot, and while you were horrified by the lack of control, a part of you couldn't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. Jeonghan was nailing it, but the closeness to Seungkwan was almost too much to handle.

Suddenly, Seungkwan playfully entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your hand, as his grin graced his face. Your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, savoring the warmth of the connection. When you opened them, you found an unreadable expression on his face—intense and smoldering. “Sounds like a plan,” he said, his voice slightly softer now. “Looking forward to it.”

The way he held your gaze made your heart skip a beat, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur. Even though Jeonghan was in control, your thoughts tangled with the heat of the moment, coursing through you like a fever. 

As soon as Seungkwan turned away to his laundry with a lingering grin, Jeonghan released control, and the reins were back in your hands. You blinked, still a bit disoriented from the possession.

‘See? Easy,’ Jeonghan’s voice echoed smugly in your mind.

‘You’re impossible,’ you shot back.

‘But effective.’

That night, you tackled all the prep work you knew you needed to get done. It had been a while since you’d done anything like this, and you definitely had some dust bunnies and spiderwebs in your attic.

“Humie–oh.”

“Jeonghan! What the hell?” Your eyes flew open as you scrambled to pull the shower curtain over your bare legs, the chill of the water sending a shiver up your spine from the products strewn haphazardly at the edge of the sink. “Do you fucking mind?”

“Well, well. Look at you, all cleaned up. At least yourself, anyway. Can’t say the same for the bathroom floor—or that mountain of grooming products over there.”

You gripped your makeshift cover-up a little tighter, groaning in frustration. “Privacy, please! I barely have any as it is.”

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you. Now, if you manage to sweep up after, I might even give you a round of applause.”

“Out!” you snapped, glaring.

He shrugged, turning to leave with an impish grin. “Hey, roommates catch each other with their pants down one way or another.”

If you weren’t already a bundle of nerves, Jeonghan was getting far too comfortable for your liking. Leading up to that night and the big day, he had been dishing out advice on everything from what to wear to what movie to play, right down to critiquing the meager food stock in your fridge.

“That’s it, you need to go grocery shopping.”

“I can't afford that right now!”

“Just get Instacart. I don’t care. This apartment is as bare-bones as it gets.”

“I have popcorn, soda, and some chocolate for Halloween when I'm giving them out.”

“First of all, popcorn isn’t actually food. Second, prebiotic soda doesn’t count as real soda. And if you can get chocolate, then you can definitely manage to buy some real groceries.”  

But just as you were about to respond, luck decided to abandon you with a sharp knock at the door. “No time!” you hissed, “now scr—oh, you’re already gone.”  

One moment he was there, and the next, he had vanished. Now, it was all on you, and nothing felt more nerve-wracking. You tugged your shorts down just enough to cover the rest of your bottom, anxiety buzzing in your chest. Your hand hovered over the doorknob as you took a deep breath, trying to muster some confidence before swinging it open to reveal who was waiting outside.

“Seungkwan, hey!”  

“Hey!” he grinned, his Halloween-themed vest adding a playful touch to his outfit as he juggled a couple of bags in his arms. “You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d surprise you with some food. Pumpkin-spiced spaghetti and meatballs.”  

“Oh, uhhh…”  

He burst into laughter, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you! It’s actually butternut squash gnocchi and some stuffed peppers that look like pumpkins.”  

“Oh, thank God! That sounds amazing.”  

“Yeah, it’s festive without going overboard.”  

You nodded in agreement, feeling a warm rush of relief. “Come in.”  

As you stepped aside to let him in, you couldn’t help but notice how wholesomely he was dressed compared to your casual attire. Suddenly, you felt a pang of self-consciousness.  

“I like your sweater,” you said, trying to mask your growing insecurity.  

He looked down, a hint of modesty crossing his face. “Yeah, I think it’s just the right amount of festive, but—”  

“It’s festive but not overboard,” you responded, playfully tossing his words right back at him.  

He grinned, “Exactly!”  

You smiled back, feeling a wave of warmth as Seungkwan's presence began to calm your nerves. As he settled into the familiar space of your apartment, you couldn’t help but discreetly scan the room for any signs of your ghoulish roommate. Half-relieved to find nothing, half-disappointed that your spectral “backup” was nowhere in sight, you let out a quiet sigh. And now it was just you—and the human you actually invited in.

Hesitantly, you eased into the spot next to him on the couch, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. Your hands were jittery as you picked up the remote, scrolling through the movies you’d lined up, your mind racing to figure out what to do next. 

You glanced at him, hoping for some sort of sign or direction, but the words caught in your throat. The longer you scrolled, the more painfully aware you became of the silence, as if it only heightened the nervous tension taking over your body, weirdly missing Jeonghan and how flawlessly he executed what he did yesterday.

"So, movies," you said, aiming the remote at the TV.

"Movies," he echoed, mimicking your tone.

“I mean,” You raised a brow. "What do you have in mind? And there is a right answer."

He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Alright, I love Halloween, but..."

"But?" you pressed, leaning in slightly.

"I... really can’t handle scary movies. Halloween Town is probably my limit."

"Halloween Town? The kids’ movie?"

"Hey, don’t knock it. They had great graphics!"

"They had awful graphics!" you shot back, incredulous.

He grinned, half-joking but clearly standing by his point. "Yeah, now. But for its time?”

You shook your head in playful disbelief, unable to hold back a smile. “You’re ridiculous. But fine, your choice.”

You were left with very few options. Seungkwan had suggested a few festive, family-friendly titles, but you managed to persuade him to consider a couple of mild thrillers—some stupid but perfectly on theme.

“The zombie version of Twilight? Seriously? Zombies?" he repeated, stressing the idea with disbelief.

You shrugged, smiling from his reaction. “You might like it.”

He dropped his head in defeat, cute little whines escaping his pursed lips. “Fine, but you’d better be my shield for this, okay, neighbor?” 

The movie began to play, the take-out boxes popped open, and your nerves were on high alert, vibrating like something else does on a normal Friday night for you. Except now, it was just you and the incredible realization that the man you're very much interested in was mere inches away. You were a fucking wreck.

Surprisingly, Seungkwan was genuinely enjoying the film, finding unexpected humor and charm in the cringeworthy blockbuster. His laughter was soothing and infectious, gradually easing your nerves until you started to feel normal again. Why were you like this?

Wait, you felt normal again, but what was normal?

Before you fully grasped what had happened in that fleeting moment of clarity, your hand made contact with Seungkwan, trailing lightly up his forearm. He immediately turned to face you, and your eyes locked, but suddenly they felt as if they belonged to someone else as if you were watching a different kind of film—a film where you were a separate character, experiencing everything from an alternate reality.

“Seungkwan,” your voice spoke, sounding foreign and distant as if someone else were taking control. Jeonghan? 

‘It was so painful to watch.’

Jeonghan guided your hand to brush against Seungkwan's ear, teasingly grazing the tip and relishing the warmth that bloomed between your fingers.

“Hey,” he replied, his nerves speaking for him. “Is something wrong?”

A low chuckle escaped from the depths of your throat, echoing Jeonghan’s playful menace. “You didn’t think we were just going to watch a movie, did you?”

Seungkwan audibly gulped, his eyes darting around as anxiety crept in. “We aren’t?”

“What’s the matter?” Jeonghan leaned in closer, your lips brushing against Seungkwan’s ear. “Where’s that confidence you had yesterday?”

Seungkwan suddenly tossed a pillow onto his lap, speechless and blushing fiercely. “Sorry,” he stammered, caught off guard. “I never anticipated—”

“Oh, really? You never expected to do something other than watching movies?” Your hand gently cupped his cheek, and you could feel Seungkwan melt into your touch with a gentle whimper.

A delighted sigh escaped you, fueled by Jeonghan’s newfound confidence coursing through your veins as your thumb traced the curve of Seungkwan’s Adam’s apple, feeling the rapid thrum of his pulse beneath your fingertips.

“You didn’t think for a second, I’d–you know–keep the night as is, did you?”

He softly groaned in his throat, feeling the tension seep inside him. “Are you suggesting?”

“I don’t want to just watch movies with you, Seungkwan. It’d be more fun to make our own. Isn’t that right?”

“...yes. God, yes.”

He leaned in, cradling your face in his hands, and pressed his lips to yours in a swift, hungry kiss, sending a surge of electricity through you as your tension unraveled in waves. His weight dipped against your body, pinning you against the rough tweed of the couch. His soft moans mingled with your breaths, muffled yet threatening, as if he were desperate to let loose and explore the desire in his heart while you were within reach.

‘That’s it.’

Your hand held the back of his head, catching strands between your fingers and tugged, ravaging his lips as if it’d be the last time you’d get a chance. You weren’t sure when Jeonghan gave you back your control, but in the heat of the moment, none of it mattered.

He tasted like a life force, fueling the fire burning in your loins and the fire kindling in your stomach; he had you wanting more with every passing second. His hands grabbed you recklessly, throwing his weight against you and squeezing your flesh until it was tender and malleable in his hands. This wasn’t something to unfold on the couch, you thought—not when a big, inviting bed lay just a few steps away, calling for you.

Your feet regained enough feeling to guide you off the couch, and before you knew it, you were stumbling toward your room, feverish and driven, with no thought of turning back. Your hands found his clothes, teasing beneath his holiday vest and up his torso, admiring the smooth flush of skin that graced your senses. He gasped, succumbing to your excitement and leaned into it, falling seamlessly into your rhythm.

“Didn’t want to stretch this, but,” he pulled the vest and shirt beneath over his head, tossing them aside in the corner. You let your hand linger longer on his body, running along the curve of his spine as he pulled you closer.

Seungkwan grasped your waist, savoring your lips with gentle strokes of his tongue before lifting you from the ground and onto the bed. Your bodies crushed against one another, peeling off articles of clothing one piece at a time until you were almost bare, expertly taking you apart to have you whole. All to himself as far as he knew.

“Seungkwan,” you called out in pleas, hands cradling the back of his neck as his hair fell over his eyes. “I want you so bad…”

“You’re telling me,” he managed to breathe out,  gripping your underwear at its hem and scrapping it over your hips as he pulled them down. “I’ve thought about you ever since I met you.”

Your heart bloomed in your chest, pleasantly startled by his confession. Your hands ran through his hand, pushing them over his forehead despite knowing they’d only fall back in place. “You were always so…friendly.���

He smiled, pressing it against the corner of your lips and decorating your cheeks and jaw with kisses. “Yeah. I always hoped that we’d be more than just friendly.”

“Well, mission accomplished.” You pulled him back into a lip lock, parting your legs to give him access.

‘Look at all the fun you’re having.’

Jeonghan was like a wandering whisper, weaving through your thoughts as Seungkwan enveloped your senses. Seungkwan’s hands were on your body, touching what’s yours and making it his, where Jeonghan could feel it as much as you could, and you knew it. He got off on this just as much as you did.

‘Feel him rubbing that pretty pussy of yours.’

“So wet…” Seungkwan said with ache, sounding like he was pleading.

His digits found your sensitivity and thumbed over your clit, stimulating you until your voice rang but the last thing you were doing was speaking. You became fluent in moans, fluid in body language, and perfect in Seungkwan. Your breath dragged on, panting against him as your leg hooked to his side, holding him with urgency.

‘So fucking horny…you were begging to be fucked, hmm?’

You couldn’t help but nod, hand lowering to find Seungkwan’s raging erection just within reach. He softly gasped, thrusting into your touch as you held his shaft, stroking his length that felt so full in your hands. So stiff, yet warm to the touch, almost tasting the tension on your tongue. 

‘Look at that size, huh? Imagine how that feels in you. Stretching your pussy and making you feel so full? Doesn’t that sound amazing?’

“I need you in me Seungkwan.” You begged in desperate pants, gripping him by the forearms. “I want to feel you inside me.”

There was a certain eagerness in his eyes, the kind that said he would do anything and everything for you in a heartbeat and succeed. You weren’t dealing with any average guy that wanted to get off. “Fuck,” he whispered, before lifting his upper body, putting himself on full display.

His physique was magnificent in every way, tantalizing and captivating like nothing you’ve ever encountered. You had an inkling of what he looked like under all his clothes, the veins always so prominent on his forearms and hands when he strained to reach something on a shelf, the line of his back when his lifted shirt revealed just a sliver of skin, or his wide hips, baring an ass so round and full they look like they came straight out of the oven. Never have you ever wanted to run your hands over something, nor have you ever wanted to sink your teeth into something. Yet, here was Seungkwan: utterly delectable.

Seungkwan dragged you by the ankles, moving you effortlessly as he angled himself between your legs, your molten heat practically dripping at the sight of him. His groan bounced off the walls, hand coming over your inner thighs and gently massaging your skin. As his kisses started to pepper over your legs, you felt your pussy physically throb, damned to eternal craving.

“You look like heaven,” He cried against your thighs. “Any protection?”

“It’s right–oh.” You picked up a rubber conveniently left at your nightstand, then handed it to Seungkwan. ‘You‘re welcome.’

He set it aside with a smile and instead of putting it on, his face fell on your heat. He tasted you like it was worship; the dance of his tongue was his prayers, while your response flowed like a cascade of blessings. You whined when you felt him pursed around your clit, teeth barely grazing you as he sucked down like you’re the last bit of syrup in a dessert.

At the same time, his eyes glazed over to yours, a hand hovering over your chest, inaudibly asking permission, and when you gave him a wordless nod, he grabbed handfuls of your breasts. He kneaded you between his knuckles, rolling your buds between his fingers, and having you surrender to his chase.

“Seungkwan, please…”

Seungkwan’s eyes glimmered with pride, a sultry testament to the depth of his exploration. The longer he ventured, the more you found ogasmic relief, feeling every ounce of his efforts and every ounce of his pleasure. You held him by his hair, leg anchoring over his back, feeling his tongue massage your inner walls. His voice vibrates inside you, somehow stealing your breath, and filling you with utter euphoria. 

‘You feel that? How much he wants you? How much he craves you. He’s been waiting for this day. And you should reward him. Don’t you think?’

You tugged him up, watch him gasping for air, replace one pair of lips with another. You flipped him on his back, gaining momentum, and relishing in the power of control, and swallowing his gasps. You aligned the hilt of his cock towards you, ensuring you wrapped it protection before it sat between the slit of your folds. 

Seungkwan tilted his head back, his eyes glistening with desire as he admired you, his gaze revealing his thoughts like an open book.  "You're so sexy," he murmured, the words spilling out without hesitation. While his look said it all, hearing it felt like a heated rush of affirmation, and it made you want him more.

You pushed his length in you, feeling his size pulsate through you, and a moan managed to pass through your lips. Shivers ran down through you, goosebumps pebbling your skin, and you realized the raging presence of Seungkwan was going to be the death of you. As he rocked inside you, he held your hips in place, guiding your form up and down on lap, adjusting to your squeeze, and adjusting to how it contracts. “Oh my god, please, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Just like I wanted,” You teased. 

Your lips brushed against his neck, grazing your teeth over his skin before making passionate kisses to his neck, grinding down on his body until there isn’t a hint of space between your bodies. You were growing weary–albeit needy–chasing a high that was so close to be conquered. You felt it, Seungkwan felt it, and damn well Jeonghan felt it. You needed more, just a little more.

Suddenly, the air was knocked out of your lungs, as if something vital had escaped from within you, and your movements were put to a halt. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, pushing the hair way from your face. “Not sure what happened. I promise–”

“Don’t apologize to me, Humie.”

You heard his voice—or rather, an echo of Jeonghan’s voice—calling from below you, and as you met his gaze in Seungkwan’s eyes, your expression widened in shock. “Jeonghan,” you declared menacingly.

“In the flesh. Well, not my own, but you get the idea,” he quipped.

You nudged at the body beneath you, careful of not hurting the host. “Get out of this poor human’s body right now! What happened to consent?”

“Oh, he’s very much consenting to the thrill of this level of intimacy,” Jeonghan replied, a teasing grin spreading across his face.

“Not when it involves a literal ghost!”

“Relax, he won’t remember a thing. My spirit won’t let him. All he’ll recall is the good time he had,” the body thief winked playfully.

“Bullshit! Do what’s right and let the boy go.”

“But I am doing what’s right.” His grip tightened around your hips, pushing Seungkwan’s cock deeper in you as if it was possible and ebbing weak moans from as he pulled you closer, a wicked smile dancing on his lips. “So right.”

“J-Jeonghan,” you stammered, your pulse quickening.

“I just couldn’t take it anymore, Humie. You looked absolutely ravishing. I had to experience you for myself.”

Your head was screaming all kinds of denial, but your body thrived off his confidence, his energy was flowing through you, splitting through you and hitting a spot of pliancy. This was so wrong. “This…this is violating…for him…”

“But you love it, don’t you? It’s like a wicked thrill, a tantalizing pleasure that feeds your deepest, most tumultuous desires.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the pulsating cock rocking your very core. “And what kind of desires is that?”

“You want us both,” he answered plainly. “The human and me.”

You shook your head, fingers tightening around Seungkwan’s shoulders in a desperate bid for security as you fought against Jeonghan’s seductive temptations. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Then, why don’t you get off of me?”

“It’s Seungkwan I can’t get off of,” You clarified.

You could recognize Jeonghan’s smile, even though it was plastered on Seungkwan’s face—so conniving, so devilish. It exuded an intoxicating power that was inhumane, but irresistible. “But it's me you’re riding–and fucking hell–you look so good doing it.”

“Jeonghan…” You whimpered, pleading for release from his coercion, but as you feared, mercy eluded you entirely.

“Yes,” His palm rode up your body, his lips parting in haughty confidence. “Beg for me, beg for me to fuck you full.”

“...Fuck it. I want you to fuck me full.” You accepted him, feeling the tension of the cock inside you, ripple waves straight into your heat. 

Mindlessly, you accepted his domineering hand that landed on your mouth, feeling it travel past your lips, parting way with his thumb. You wrapped your lips around his digits, sucking them like candy, and the shame that once enveloped your paradoxical feelings dissipated, leaving only a deep hunger in its wake. 

Whether it was Jeonghan or Seungkwan beneath you, it was all true to its very core. You had an undeniable infatuation for your cute neighbor and a strange fascination with the handsome ghost. The connection you felt with both was more than palpable, leaving you with an unexplained frenzy of emotions that would require extensive therapy. You knew the logical choice was the one who was alive, but you had never considered that you could have both—especially not in such a chaotic, unorthodox three-way.

“Look at what a slut you are for us, your lips so perfect wrapped around these slender fingers of his.”

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” you quietly muttered to yourself, grinding harder, sucking Seungkwan’s fingers deeper, and gradually succumbing to Jeonghan’s demands.

Jeonghan let out a deep, rolling laugh that resonated from Seungkwan’s core, a sound so rich and dark it sent a momentary unease through you. “You’re simply giving into your desires, why fight it?”

“You damn well know why,” you spat out his fingers and gritted your teeth.

“Now that’s not nice,” His hand covered the shape of your ass, cupping them in his palms, “Do I need to show you how to be nicer to me?”

“Jeonghan,” you groaned, feeling his digits dig into your flesh as he spread them apart. 

“What’s that, baby?” he experimented, “Looks like I have to make this a teaching opportunity after all? Because you can’t show your gratitude?”

“Jeonghan, please.”

“Well, if you insist.” With an unexplainable, arcane, supernatural force, the dynamics were switched and Jeonghan had you on your stomach, ass conveniently placed in from of him. 

“Jeonghan!”

"I always knew you looked good from every angle, but wow—this one is something else." His hand glided over your curves, Seungkwan’s cock splitting down your divide, you grasped your thirst.

Anticipation was wreaking havoc on your sanity, leaving you in a deafening silence as you waited for Jeonghan to make his move, impatience following. “Will you just–”

A hand clashed against your backside, your skin stinging from impact, and relieving you from a ched yelp. Jeonghan braced you against a groin, the erection nudging at your skin. “So needy,” he chuckled. You felt the tip tease along your slit, eventually filling you up in that familiar way.

You whimper, the size still enticingly foreign, and back into his weight, feel yourself travel all the way down to the base.

“And impatient,” Jeonghan softly groans, grounding himself to you in careful, yet sharp thrusts.

You balled your sheets into fists, your voice muffled as you buried your face in a pillow.

He chuckled against his skin. “That good?”

“Y-yes,” you helplessly whispered.

He slammed down on you, releasing a squeaky spring sound from the bed, both embarrassing and strangely arousing. “Even when I do that?”

“Yes…more please…”

Jeonghan repeated the move, finding a steady rhythm, and watched as your skin and flesh recoiled back against him. He could feel his host basking in the intensity of this pleasure, tears swelling his eyes as your moans echoed in his ears, memorizing from the decibels your voice reached, to the way you looked from behind, and even how the flesh of thighs spilled when you collapsed wearily on the mattress.

“Insane,” He said in hushed whispers.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Stop what? Showing you how fucking perfect you are taking my cock?” He grunted.

You pressed your lips in a firm lip, clawing down on the bed as your core tightened, every pound drilling into you, giving into his indulgence and taking you along with him. He made every thrust count as the echo of skin slapping faded into the background.

“Oh please, help me cum.” You begged. “Please, please, please…”

His pace quickened, his rhythm erratic. “Yeah, you want your cum to coat around my cock like a good little whore.”

“Yes, Jeonghan please, just give it to me.”

“You asked, and you shall receive.”

Finally, he bottomed out into you, unleashing the reins he held to prolong this moment and cut them lose. Your body was no longer yours, weakened by the spirit draining your energy. Your jaw fell slack, unable to close, a waning moaning stretching for miles, ecstasy coursing through your veins. 

You said one name, then another, and then again. This was really confusing but you were here, pounded into oblivion for what it seem endless eternity, until you realized you were full and not with what you had initially anticipated. In the remenance of fatigue from the sex, you fail to notice the lack of protetction seeing as proof of you supernatural rendezvous was seeping out of you like a slow river.

“Jeonghan!” 

“What?” he drowsily answered as he claimed the side of the bed besides you, evidently using the extent of Seungkwan’s body.

“What the fuck happened to the condom?”

“Please, that’s my own cum.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ectoplasm, you know. Comes from all sorts of places.”

“I hate you so much—am I gonna get pregnant with ghost kids?”

“Relax, and no you aren’t. It’s as effective as…something really ineffective–fuck, I’m tired.”

“And Seungkwan. What about Seungkwan?”

“He’s fine and his release became as good as mine when I possessed his body. His soul is asleep right about now, having a catnap. Now come here.” he pulled you towards him, throwing your covers over you and keeping you away from the draft into to room, slipping you into his arms. “Stop tiring yourself out any further and rest. Everything will be fine when he wakes up like a man that got laid: amazing.”

“Fine,” you muttered with heavy eye lids, “but only because im really tired.”

And from that moment sleep was easy.

You woke up to those same arms, now only asleep and less “ghost-like” and snuggled up closer to him, a newly acclaimed heat source. A soft chuckle escaped him, holding you tighter in his embrace as a kiss fell on the top of your forehead. “Hey there.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. “Hi.”

“That was amazing, you’re amazing,” he said, planting another kiss on your nose. “Is it weird to say it felt so good I kinda blacked out?”

“Ha,” you shook your head, knowing the truth, “No, but thank you for the massive compliment.”

He grinned, a flush of red coating his cheeks, before pulling you into a deep and wonderful kiss, entanging his legs with yours. He seeped into realization when he found the mess between your legs, untouched since sex. “Oh shit, I did that, didn’t I?”

“It’s okay, I…have some sort of protection.”

“One moment.” Seungkwan came up naked from the bed, momentarily left the room, and with a noticeably wet hand towel. “I usually have an extra clean one on hand for after my workout. Glad I brought a backpack for no reason today.

As he inched closer, he sat between your legs, uncovering you from the blanket, and politely asked if he could help. When he received your consent, he brought it up to the mess, gently swiping between every crevice, ridding any remnants of cum that might have been left over. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” you reassured, visibly gushing.

“Of course, I do.” He insisted, a sincere smile gracing his features. “It's my pleasure taking care of you.”

It was so disorienting going from the original to Jeonghan’s version and back to the original Seungkwan. As if you were once looking through a window of an alternate reality. Still a lot to process what happened.

“I don’t usually do this,” you try explaining yourself, “I just…I’ve been into you for a long time and I just thought, maybe, you felt the same.”

“I do,” he pressed his lips to your inner thigh. “A lot.”

“So you wouldn’t mind seeing me again?”

“I wouldn’t object to the idea,” he grinned, “especially if we get to do what we did to make me black out in the first place.”

[dreamer2503]

Finally, after almost two years, I found what really works for me.

I finally learned and understood what truly helps me manifest everything I want. I'm sharing this because it might help someone who is in the same situation I was in—until yesterday. So, here’s my story with manifestation.

First, during the pandemic, I was a Law of Attraction girl. I tried a lot of methods and techniques, stayed positive every second of the day, but nothing seemed to work. I also discovered shifting during that time, so I've known about shifting since 2020. I tried everything, but nothing worked. I had a lucid dream here and there, but never experienced a real shift to a different reality. For a long time, I believed nothing would ever work.

Years later, I discovered non-dualism, which actually made things worse because I didn’t understand it and thought I was failing. Then, I learned about the Law of Assumption, which I felt much more comfortable with and found easier to understand than non-dualism. But again, I tried everything, and nothing seemed to work. I even felt anxious using techniques like robotic affirmations—but I kept doing them over and over.

I realized I was stuck in a very specific cycle: I’d start trying to manifest something, already thinking it would take forever to show up in the 3D—or maybe not show up at all. By the third or fourth day, I’d start to feel demotivated, anxious, frustrated, and sad because I wasn’t seeing results in the 3D.

This week was tough. I felt frustrated with manifestation and shifting again, and I also got a bad grade in college. Out of desperation, I went back to robotic affirmations. But then I stopped. Yesterday, I took a moment to reflect and asked myself: what actually helps me?

That’s when I realized that every time I had manifested something almost instantly, it was because I used just one affirmation and then let it go. I completely forgot about it. That’s how I manifested my brother (yes, I manifested my younger brother), that’s how I manifested my dog, and yesterday, that’s how I manifested a message I had been waiting for.

Now I understand what the bloggers mean when they say it’s only up to you—that YOU are the key. I finally see how unique each of our journeys is. I was so focused on what worked for others that I didn’t even consider what worked for me. I wanted to be like those people who affirm all day and get everything they want, or those who completely ignore the 3D. But in reality, the 3D actually helps me manifest, because it helps me let go—it distracts me, and then the manifestation shows up (like the message I wanted, which came the same day).

So, my advice is: look within. Forget about the techniques, the methods, the meditations. Focus on yourself. Focus on what works for you, on what has worked in the past. That helped me so much. I feel such relief knowing what works for me—I finally know exactly what to do now.

I hope this helps someone out there. Please keep going. Don’t give up. You have so much to do in this universe, and you deserve everything you want.

P.S.: Sorry if anything is still off—English is my second language.

[brehaaorgana]

i saw your post about the scammers trying to use current events to scam on tumblr, do you think you’d be able to break down what makes one a scam vs. a real request? i think thats smth not a lot of people know how to look for (esp when scams like the current one bank on you reacting with emotion or try to press some kind of fear of urgency onto you)

People are going to really hate this answer, but: the absolute safest way to avoid charity scams is to never give money to individual people you do not personally know and have not explicitly personally verified need those funds. The safest way to donate funds to a legitimate cause is to donate to verifiable charities who you have researched.

This is the old standard advice — and it was given loonnnggg before the current iteration of the conflict in Gaza. You cannot accidentally fall for a scam if you don't donate money to people you simply don't know.

"But what if they're real?"

They could be! Are you willing to lose that money to a scammer, and possibly put more of your finances and internet security at risk — when you could instead donate to a registered non-profit/NGO that you have researched their track record, and who can make the money go a LOT farther?

"sure, I'm willing to risk that money! This is important!"

Alright, so:

Do you trust the beneficiary middle man? PayPal, GoFundMe, etc do not allow for withdrawals in many countries. So if these servicers don't actually allow people to withdraw in their home country, do you trust a third party to make sure the money gets to these people? Are they trustworthy?

Even if they are trustworthy, do you know what currency is being sent or used? Is there a possibility of currency exchange rates and fees impacting how far your donation actually goes? Donating to an organized NGO/charity often helps relieve this issue! For Palestine specifically, keep in mind that they don't have their own unique national currency. So is this going to stay as USD? Israeli Shekels? Egyptian Pounds? Something else? (This article mentions how one fundraiser recipient only received less than 70% of the total raised due to GFM fees, and currency exchange fee inflation)

What, exactly, is the money actually going to be able to buy? Is it a bribe for another government extorting refugees? Is that bribe guaranteed to actually work? Or might they still be turned away AND lose all that money? Is it risking perpetuating crisis-inflation on the ground? What happens if there is nothing to buy?

The funds may have to be wired or money transferred eventually to the recipient. Does the infrastructure support these large wire transfers? What happens if a bank - at any point - freezes the wire, and seizes the funds for suspicious or possible criminal activity? They can do that, by the way, and in the US the bank doesn't have to give that money back. They could just cancel the wire, but retrying the same wire with slightly different info after the bank cancels for suspicious activity is not acceptable on the US side of things. For other conflicts, by the way, there are absolutely sanctions that would prevent wire transfers from the US from happening. And then, can cash even be withdrawn? Are local banks secure?

If it's not being wired to the recipient, how is the money getting to the recipient? If it's being used to pay for refugee extortion (which was absolutely what the Egyptian government was doing - extorting refugees) that's one thing. But if it's going to the recipient directly, how does it get there? Is someone delivering it personally? Crossing a border? Mail? Is there a reliable means to actually physically move currency to this location? How? Where? Does the fundraiser explain this at all?

What transparency and accountability are they offering at the end of a fundraiser?

These are the most basic things you have to know — how will this money actually make it to the right place and be useful? What will it be used for? If there's a blockade, then what? What happens to the money in the meantime? What if it's seized by opposing groups/governments/forces? What is the actual likelihood your money makes it to the right place without a reliable and known NGO/Non-profit with on the ground infrastructure helping? Do they have experience navigating the bureaucracy involved? What happens if it's stuck in limbo?

If you have thought through ALL of these things and still donate, that is an EDUCATED decision you are making!

There is a very good reason to prefer donating to existing, reputable charity organizations for your own financial safety and to ensure your money does what you want it to do!

These links detail how to avoid fraudulent charity orgs, how to research charities, and what charity/donation scam red flags to look out for:

Federal Trade Commission: How to Avoid a Scam

FTC: How to recognize and avoid phishing scams

FTC: Before Giving to a Charity

IRS: Beware of Fake Charities, Check Before Donating

Charity Navigator: Avoiding Charity Scams

FBI: Charity & Disaster Fraud

03.19.2024 FBI & IRS urge warning on illegal charities, donation scams.

PayPal Newsroom: Spot and Avoid Charity Scams

TN attorney general: Charity Scams (this is just one random state example)

FCC: Scam Charities will take your money and run

American Bankers Association: Charity Scams. NOTE this one literally says: "don't let anyone — Pressure you, call you selfish, or make you feel guilty about deciding whether to donate. "

GoFundMe: Recognizing online fraud schemes

Forbes: Israel-Gaza War Has Triggered More Charity Scams: Here’s 4 Ways To Avoid Getting Swindled

FTC: Safely donating in response to the Israel-Gaza crisis

Btw back on Nov 1st, 2023, Yahoo News UK reported: Scam warning: Gaza crisis appeals used to trick victims

Experts have uncovered $1.6m of fraudulent payments linked to the Israel-Gaza conflict as part of a rise in cryptocurrency scams.

Things that are red flags for scams/charity fraud per literally every US federal and financial professional resource:

Language used to create stress, fear, or shame if you do not donate

Language used to create urgency, or a pressing time limit — making you panic and less likely to calmly research

Requests for wire transfers, cryptocurrency, gift cards

Unsolicited requests for money, especially via text, messaging platforms/apps, email, or social media

Requests for money that have generic greetings or vague, non-identifying language. A lack of personalization in the address

Threats, name calling/verbal attacks, or repeated messages if not responded to quickly or at all

Lack of detailed information about how the money will be obtained and received, and how it will be used (for what purpose)

Requesting your personal information for any reason

Sending unprompted web links

[crowliphale]

I'm only in episode 3 of icebound but I think I really do SERIOUSLY recommend watching it under the assumption that Taishen has a crush on Jornir. It's improving their short interactions a lot for me 💭

Yap fest ahead, as well as general icebound spoilers (started jorshen focused but kinda just turned into general icebound thoughts)

first obviously taishen steered into the iceberg thinking he was following Jornir's directions, but there's also a couple times where he like. Tries Sounding Cool right after Jornir's said something ominous and mysterious and it's really funny?? Also when he woke up Jornir for his watch he was so gentle about it... Very cute. I really don't think Jornir reciprocates at this point in their journey but I'm keeping my eyes peeled 🙏

I think generally Mace is still trying to figure Taishen out at this point too, cuz I feel like everyone else has a lot of character specific moments or they know exactly what they're doing, but Taishen is just kinda quiet? Can't wait to see him get more moments to shine!

Also I was reading the firbolg wiki out of curiosity, and I learned that male firbolgs (in 5e anyway) are well over 10 feet tall, have huge beards and weigh significantly more than females! I'm obviously assuming that's been retconned in Avantris-specific lore, but it's what fueled my FTM Jornir headcanon hehe.

ALSO ALSO, Jornir has these weirdly pronounced smile lines? I guess they could come from snarling or grimacing too, but idk, I think it'd be kinda funny/cute if he used to be a pretty jovial guy in the past. The smilerrrr

Guh and Barnabos is just. He's so cool! Such a unique DND character even down to his mechanics, I love how genuine Mikey is in his sailor's paranoia and all. If he's improv-ing all the superstitions then it's really convincing! I've got a ton of ideas about Barnabos and his watery wife too 💭💭💭 very very good character

Queenie is very funny, I like Nikkie's latent ability to turn every conversation into a sex joke or a "who's on first" bit. I'll say that some of her southern colloquialisms could use some work, but at the same time it kinda feels VERY Queenie to just make up some extremely weak bullshit on the spot LMAOO. She's also been the most competent one mechanically speaking! I love that she's always keeping her material components in mind and finds ways to work them into roleplay.

Skrimm is so far the most animated. Andy always immediately knows what Skrimm's doing, he just LEAPS into the character really nicely and it's fun to watch. I ALSO ADOOOORE HOW HE PLAYS SKRIMM'S PARANOIA!! Some other characters in the past that they've described as "paranoid" are usually just mildly anxious, or are even sometimes just. Not Paranoid. But Skrimm feels so real and justified! He's suspicious of so much stupid shit and only really calms down when his friends are the ones telling him to do things! Guh he may not be my favorite in general but he's my favorite so far in his acting alone 💞

Not to mention Derek's DM'ing! It's so inspiring and nice to see him so excited about this, and learning about how much time and effort he put in is just baffling every time. 123 page planning document?! 12 pages of story planned for one session?? A WHOLE SHIP'S FLOORPLAN?! gosh he's just really really good at this right off the bat, it makes me excited seeing him be so excited. The pacing is also really good! I never find myself getting bored despite the episodes huge lengths... Guh... icebound

[crescenthistory]

Hey, Carina! I wanted to congratulations you on 2k and say I hope this awful anon didn't affect you, they're wrong, ok? You, elle, and all the others that unfortunately were being bothered are wonderful 💗

Can I have an analyze with poly!rosekiller x potter!reader who get close after jegulus start dating? You don't have to do it if you don't write for rosekiller!

Kisses, kisses, bye! <3

hi darling<33 thank you for saying that, you are such a sweetheart. i'm alright and won't take online things too hard thankfully. big hugs to you!

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ANALYSE poly!rosekiller x potter!reader

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, references to sex, manipulative bcj and ev, semi-open relationship, background jegulus, happy ending

i imagine barty and evan have been unofficially recognised as soulmates since first year and then officially began traditionally dating in fifth year

however, nothing about their relationship was ever really traditional – they had their own way of communicating almost telepathically that no one else understood and had unique boundaries

for instance, it was not uncommon for the two of them to invite someone else into the bedroom for the night, or simply just collectively admire them from afar

evan is on the ace spectrum in my book and i think he views most human connections as something to study and pick apart, while barty views his body and personality as tools

it works out for them because they find understanding and love in each other

as the slytherin friend group has been quite heavily opposed to the gryffindors from day one, one of the things that truly frustrated rosekiller, though perhaps mostly barty, was that "those potters just had to be proper fit"

he would sling comments like that around every now and again over the years, rolling his eyes at you twins, who remained oblivious to how you're being discussed from across the room

dorcas, who always bantered with barty most freely, would answer with "gryffindors are allowed to look good, you know" or "go shag them then, if you're so hung up on it"

he never would, only ever scowling or snarling at you when you were near, though he kept grumbling about how you and james just had to be so "perfect"

dorcas laughed with him, evan only ever raised his brow or stoically nodded in agreement, and pandora didn't really interfere – but regulus, he always kept quiet

you can imagine rosekiller's reaction when regulus eventually lets them know in sixth year that he is dating james, and behind sirius' back at that

barty couldn't decide whether he was livid that regulus was dating a gryffindor, jealous that he was dating a potter or ecstatic that he was dating his brother's best friend

evan decided on all three right then and there – without making a big deal out of it

"big black isn't going to like that," he drawled with a raised brow from the seat across regulus

"and you do?" regulus was always extra sassy when he was feeling defensive

"no, but i don't intend to deal with the consequences the way he has to"

i have always imagined that if regulus willingly tells his friends about james, they wouldn't really understand it to begin with, because regulus will rarely ever show emotions if he can help it

so, unless it's revealed in the heat of the moment or during a breakdown, i think rosekiller would misunderstand the nature of jegulus' relationship to begin with

evan didn't understand that there is such an emotional depth there, that there is true love at play – it felt more natural that this is a jab at reg's brother while also getting with one of the fittest guys at school

(his own excluded)

barty was a lot more emotive, wanting answers and explanations from regulus, all but demanding they either breakup or engage in a foursome, but evan reeled him in with a hand on his shoulder in that way only he could

they let it be – for now

because evan had a plan; if regulus could break the unofficial 'no gryffindors rule', then so could they

how do they wreak the most amount of chaos in the marauders' circle while also taking advantage of a once in a lifetime opportunity?

they try to get with you, of course

james' twin sister and light of his life is adequate revenge for him 'defiling' their star, regulus

the look on sirius and james' faces alone would be worth it, but rosekiller had both always had this fascination with you specifically that they weren't mad about getting to act on

so, while jegulus is still a secret from sirius, they try to approach you in secret as often as possible

at first in the hallways when walking to class

"little potter, wait up!" barty would yell, running up behind you

you would give him a weirdly amused look and clarify that you were born first, to which evan would hold his hands up

"fair correction. big potter, then."

they walk with you and try to chat you up, just falling a little short of their goal

mostly because evan had expected barty, the infamous flirt he is, to take the lead with you, and he didn't. barty fell oddly quiet, almost stuttering.

if it didn't botch evan's plans, he would have found it painfully endearing

unlike your brother, you don't have as much of an immediate dislike for slytherins and wouldn't have been opposed to a friendship with them had it not been for how they actively scowled at and avoided you for years

but precisely because of your brother, you could also smell a prank from miles away

so you engaged in banter with them, but kept them at arm's reach as they approached you in hallways, in the courtyard, in hogsmeade

you could tell they were trying to flirt within the first few times, despite being thrown off by their change in energy

but you became more uncertain over the weeks as they seemed to grow... comfortable? with you?

behind the scenes, evan had scolded barty a little for growing shy the first few times, but became quickly distracted himself as they talked more and more with you

it took longer than expected – and they inadvertently grew comfortable with you

considering how you kept brushing them off, what wound up happening most of the times they approached you is that you just... talked. together. for longer than evan talked with even most of his friends

hm. peculiar.

speaking of, pandora was just sitting there smiling endearingly at her two boys floundering around the whole time, always knowing where this was leading

eventually, rosekiller became comfortable enough around you and forgetful enough of the plan that they wound up speaking to you in public, with your brother and friends near

that's when regulus noticed first, having wondered where the hell his friends have been running off to

the look he sent his two best mates was the definition of deadly

they would yell something at you across the great hall and sirius would immediatley whip his face around to look at you.

"you're on speaking terms with rosier and junior, pots?"

you just shrugged, kind of brushing it off

even as it happened again on the quidditch field with barty waving at you from the field as they fought against hufflepuff

"bub, what is going on?" james would ask

"i don't know. i think they're just a bit odd. you know, socially."

rosekiller accept that their plan has not worked out at all, so they deviate from it one final time – instead of trying to hook up with you at some party, they ask you out

in the hallway, after your final classes of the day

you just laugh at them

which, ironically, is when they both realise they actually, genuinely, disturbingly like you

"okay, it's time you two spit it out. why are you running around after me and flirting with me like this?"

you knew it was a failed prank somehow, but you didn't get what, how or why – it amused you, really

evan composed himself, trying to think of the strategically best answer to give you when you're so clearly calling them out on their bullshit

unfortunately, barty is wired a little differently

"regulus is shagging your brother"

instead of saying something to risk you getting upset with them – which, based on their track record with you, barty did fear they might – he said the one thing you might all unite on

"WHAT?!"

unlike barty and evan, you aren't upset with the idea of gryffindor and slytherin or potter and black – but you were bloody pissed at your brother for keeping it a secret from you

barty spills everything regulus had told them, though of course affected by his own interpretation of it

"they've been shagging ever since big black sent potter to check in on regulus, the fucking audacity he had," barty would grumble, to which you only raised your brow

"yes, how dare he care" combined with an eyeroll

then, you would squint your eyes at the both of them, reading how annoyed or frustrated they are with the idea of regulus and james

evan could feel his stomach dropping for once, feeling scrutnised by you only shortly after embracing the idea that he maybe cares what you think and feel

luckily, you only burst out laughing when you realise

"is that why i've gotten myself two street cats suddenly? you want revenge on my brother?"

for once, barty is stunned while evan is stuttering

"i- we-" he cuts himself off and embraces it. "yeah. a potter for a potter. i guess."

"i won't apologise, but you know... sorry," barty added. "to be fair, i think we went after the better one."

which is when your grin went from amused to a bit sweet

"you're two right idiots, you know," you started, taking enough pleasure in how they're squirming to prove that maybe the three of you are an alright match. "but i'll help you."

barty's jaw was nearing the floor while evan's eyes began to gleam

you held up one finger. "except, not how you maybe originally planned." you looked at them both with a mischievous glint that made your relationship to james undeniable. "if you truly want to go out to dinner, we can. the revenge is, we don't tell james either."

at this point, barty was ready to admit to himself that he didn't give a fuck about the revenge anymore

a quick glance sideways to his partner, he saw his own emotions reflected there in a way only he could decipher. and maybe, hopefully, you could one day, too.

suffice to say, you went out to many, many dinners

at hogsmeade in hiding, around the hogwarts grounds, once at the edge of the forbidden forest

enter a montage of laughing and falling in love in springtime

the boys could now be fully comfortable with you in a way neither of them could ever have expected – the beginning of a genuine relationship

you took lighthearted enjoyment in knowing you are keeping it from james when he had kept something big from you

meanwhile rosekiller immediately told regulus and giggled at how horrified he was

"don't you bloody dare ruin this for me," reg would moan in a mix of a plead and a complaint

"if anything, we're making it easier on you, pretty boy"

the best part of the punchline, though, was that james, of course, knew too

the poor sod sat in his dorm, positively tweaking seeing his twin sister running around as a part of a new disturbing trio on his little map

unable to confront you on it without being a massive hypocrite

and barty was right – their emerging relationship with you, did make life easier for jegulus, too

because when sirius noticed the three of you on the map and wanted to confront them, james had to be the one to stop him

"excuse me, prongs? are you just going to let that lot run around with your sister?" (and if sirius almost said our sister, james didn't mention it)

james would sigh, squeezing his eyes shut

he had been avoiding and postponing this conversation with sirius simply out of fear of how he might take it – that's why he didn't tell you either, he knew it had to be sirius first and he was simply too scared

but how else would he explain that he couldn't interfere in your relationship without setting a precedence against his own without telling him?

so, at last, james told him everything

and he truly was a poor sod for having tortured himself over something sirius already had been expecting since fourth year

a happy ending<3

james would come up to you in the common room one day, looking somehow both mischievous and sheepish

he toed your shoe with his to get you to look at him and sat down across from you

"you know, don't you?" he asked carefully

"that you're an asshole? damn right."

he playfully smacked you, "don't be cruel"

you tilted your head at him and inquired back. "are you telling me because you know too?"

he failed to fight back a wince. you kicked his shin under the table. "yeah, yeah, i know."

"and?"

"i won't ruin it for you if you don't ruin it for me"

your smile was nothing short of loving. "deal."

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Lakeside Cabin Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: Y/N Use, swearing, bullying from both Bucky and Y/N

Series Summary: The hate you and Bucky have for each other has gradually increased throughout your time knowing each other. This time, things went too far. Thanks to your arguments, you get sent on a unique consequential mission: You will both live together in a secluded cabin until you're able to come together and settle your differences. You're screwed.

Pt. Summary: You and Bucky spend your first 2 days in the cabin...of course, it's messy.

This doesn't really follow the movies or shows.

*Not Proof Read*

No mentions of body type, skin color, or details of reader's appearance.

□□□□□□□

As soon as Fury left the room, Steve was sent in to inform us we need to pack our stuff.

"First thing tomorrow I'm driving you two to the cabin." His eyes shift between the two of us.

"Steve, you have to do something about this." I urge the tall blonde. I gesture between myself and Bucky. "We will literally kill each other. 10 minutes tops. I swear."

Bucky scoffs. "With your mouth? Make it five." He shakes his head in annoyance. A strand of his brown hair falling loose in front of his eyes in the process. He is leaned back against his chair, thick arms tightly folded against his chest.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried. Brains over brawn." I snap back at the older man.

He ignores my glare, instead rolling his eyes. "Doll, let’s not fantasize. You talk like you’re a genius, but I’ve met houseplants with better critical thinking skills. At least they know which direction the sun’s coming from. Meanwhile, you still have to be told which hand is your left hand."

My blood boils. I tightly clench my fists, ready to attack Bucky. I narrow my eyes at the man, praying a lightning bolt strikes him down. Some nerve. "First of all, it was one time! I was shitfaced drunk and seeing like 50 versions of my own hand. That gets confusing. Second of all, that’s rich coming from the guy who types with one finger and calls it ‘tactical efficiency.' I know animals who type better than y-"

Steve cuts me. "Enough. Enough! This is exactly why you're being sent to this safehouse. You two are unbelievable, you know that? This is literally the reason you are going to the safehouse." He glares at us. "You're adults! It's time you start acting like it." Steve's voice is stern, like a pissed off father.

Deep down, I know he's right. Bucky and I should be able to work together without feeling the need to piss the other off. Our stupid fights got us into this situation, but unfortunately, they can't get us out.

We need to come out of this civil.

How though?

What are we supposed to do to calm the anger between us? Make friendship bracelets and have heart-to-hearts? Where do we even begin?

"I don't understand this...rivalry between the two of you." Steve folds his arms.

I avoid his gaze. A feeling of guilt begins to gnaw at the inside of my stomach. Something about Steve's disappointed dad demeanor makes me question my behaviors.

Steve continues. "You're both great at what you do. Why can't you just build each other up instead of trying to tear each other down? This is a team. We need to have each other's backs. It's not fair to the rest of us when stuff like today happens. Someone could've gotten hurt, and you wouldn't be able to help because you're so caught up in each other. Think about us. If someone had been injured while you two were bickering, I guarantee you would've come back feeling horrible. Don't let that happen."

Bucky and I are silent while the words settle in our minds.

I hate that he's right.

-------

The car ride to the safehouse is long. None of us speak as Steve continues down the highway surrounded by forest. I keep my head pressed against he passenger side window, watching as the trees speed by.

The radio crackles as we begin to get further and further from civilization before eventually turning into steady static. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve turn off the radio before turning his attention back to the road.

After another ten minutes of silence, Steve turns off the highway onto a smaller road. The gravel-covered road crackles as the tires of our car push against it. The car pulls into a large clearing.

Ahead sits a large cabin, a lake visible behind it. The exterior cabin is covered in brown wood that gives off the feeling of Lincoln Logs. Large windows sit on either side of the front door, both covered by curtains. The wooden door is beautifully crafted, with gentle carvings surrounding the small window at the top. The porch is nearly bare, the only things on it being two wooden rocking chairs. The second story of the cabin contains one window, also covered by a curtain on the inside. The roof is a light green color, obviously faded from the sun.

The lawn is overgrown and filled with wildflowers, which stop at the road. Rocks separate the lawn from the road, leaving a small opening for a path to the cabin door. To the far side of the cabin is a small covered car. In the distance, I can see what I think is a fire pit with chairs surrounding it.

Immediately, I spot some of the cameras Fury was talking about. A familiar red dot sits in the corner of the one facing the road we just pulled up through.

They're already watching us.

Steve parks the car, and I immediately get out, ready to stretch my legs. Little rocks from the gravel road push against the bottom of my shoes, adding pressure in weird places. I ignore it, deciding to walk around to the back of the car where my bags are.

Steve pops the trunk open, and I scan over the items. Two boxes of food and necessities are stacked on each other and tucked in the corner, under a few extra blankets. Next to the boxes are our bags and things we brought to do.

I reach into the trunk and pull out my two suitcases and travel backpack. When I turn around, I spot Bucky looking over my luggage with a raised brow.

This morning I woke up late and ended up being twenty minutes late for the car. Both guys were already inside talking when I stuffed my bags inside the trunk.

"We stayin' two weeks or are you planning on making it a year?" Bucky asks while watching me pull on my backpack.

I roll my eyes. "Some of us actually like to change our outfits, Bucky. We don't all wear the same 2 pairs of Henleys and jeans." I snap back without thinking. "It's called style. You might want to try it."

Bucky scoffs, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Style? Doll, if carrying half a department store on your back counts as style, I’ll stick with functional. At least my clothes don’t require a damn instruction manual."

"Fuck yo-"

Steve cuts me off, stepping in the middle of the two of us. "Enough." His voice is stern. He looks back and forth at us. "Remember why you're here. Behave."

Bucky is silent while he grabs his singular bag out of the trunk. He also somehow manages to grab both of the boxes and blankets.

Fucking supersoldiers.

Steve leads us up the path to the cabin entrance. He pulls out a small housekey from his pocket as soon as we get to the door. He unlocks the door and takes a step inside, us following behind.

Sunlight streams into the house from the door. Dust swarms around in the air around the light, sending a tickle up my nose.

This place definitely hasn't been used in a while.

Steve turns on the hallway light, which takes a minute to flicker on.

A deep green rug stretches across the wooden floors. The floorboards underneath groan with age.

To the left, the cabin opens up into a large living room that feels like stepping into another time. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, overflowing with mismatched spines -some worn and cracked, others newer but wedged in haphazardly, like the collection grew too fast to be properly arranged. One of the large windows I saw outside is against the wall. A large, faded floral curtain blocks most of the light from coming in.

On the far wall is a massive stone fireplace, blackened at the mouth from decades of crackling fires. A small stack of wood sits in a woven basket nearby, and a set of iron tools leans beside the hearth, rust-spotted and clearly well-used.

Two large, weathered leather couches face one another in the center of the room, the cushions sunken from use, but still inviting. Between them rests a handmade wooden coffee table -its surface rough and nicked with character, the legs thick and carved with simple swirls. Small side tables, mismatched but cute, flank the couches. On each one sits a tiny lamp with linen shades.

In the corner, nearest the old box TV, a relic from the early 2000s, if not before, sits a lone recliner. The faded fabric is worn along the armrests, and one side sags just slightly more than the other, like it's been very well used. A thick, knitted grey blanket is folded over the back of it, clearly hand-made.

On the opposite side of the entryway is a compact office space, its doorway framed by dark wood molding. Inside, a large, worn mahogany desk sits front and center. Behind it is a battered office chair, the upholstery torn along the edges and stuffing peeking through. The desk itself is surprisingly bare -just a dusty brass lamp with a cracked green glass shade, and a chipped ceramic mug crammed full of pens and pencils.

Another fireplace nestles against the far wall, smaller than the one in the living room but just as old, framed by a simple brick mantel. Above it are several decorative items clearly arranged with a purpose.

Steve leads us past the wide wooden staircase in front of us to the kitchen where Bucky sets down the boxes and blankets on the counter.

The kitchen looks like it was last renovated sometime before color TV was invented. The floor creaks with every step, the faded linoleum peeling at the corners like it’s trying to escape. The counters are scratched-up laminate in a nauseating shade of beige, stained permanently by years of coffee spills and what you can only guess was tomato sauce… hopefully.

The cabinets are all uneven, a mismatched mix of pale wood and dull, chipped paint. One hangs slightly open. The stove is an ancient, avocado-green relic. A dented kettle sits on the back burner like it’s been there for decades, and probably has.

There’s one tiny window above the sink, foggy with age and framed by dusty curtains that might’ve once been floral. Barely any natural light gets in, casting everything in a dim, golden haze. The hum of the fridge fills my ears as soon as I get into the room —loud enough to be annoying but not loud enough to drown out the silence.

A single flickering lightbulb hangs overhead, its yellow glow casting long shadows that make the place feel smaller than it already is. There’s no dishwasher, obviously, and the sink’s faucet drips every few seconds with a metallic plink that quickly becomes infuriating.

It’s cozy in a way. Or at least, it would be -if I didn't have to share it with Bucky.

"There's more food in the pantry and down in the storage cellar." Steve gestures to a closed door. "You guys should be set for the next two weeks. There should be cable and internet, according to Tony, I don't know how well it works up here. If something happens and you need help, there's an emergency button hidden behind the painting above the fireplace in the office. There's more wood outside and an axe in the shed -Not for killing." His eyes narrow at us. "The building should have heat, AC, running water, and electricity. You are not allowed to use the boat or to leave the property unless the trip is approved by Fury. Cameras will be watching. Expect check-in calls every few days. You will also be given tasks to do together as a team. You have to do them. " Steve informs us.

"Can we swim?" I ask curiously.

"Sure. Do whatever you want as long as it leads to you two getting along and not hurting each other." Steve sighs. "Really try to get along, guys, alright? This is for your own benefit."

Doesn't feel like it.

"I've got to get back." Steve says when neither of us replies. He sets the key down on the counter top before beginning to walk towards the door but he stops a few inches shy to look at us once again. "No killing, I'm serious. Goodbye."

Bucky and I say goodbye to the blonde man. We listen to the fading creaking sounds the wood makes under his weight as he walks back to the entrance. The front door shuts with a small click and I immediately turn to Bucky.

"I call the master's suite." I say before he can open his mouth.

"Of course you do." He mutters.

"You snooze, you lose," I say unsympathetically.

"Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?" Bucky grumbles while sending me an annoyed look.

I grin. "Only for you, Bucky. You're the one special person who brings out the worst in me."

"Aw, I’m flattered. Didn’t realize ruining your mood was my superpower. Should I add it to my resume?" Bucky mocks me.

I narrow my eyes. "A resume? Wow, look at you keeping up with the modern world. What’s next, learning how to use emojis? I mean, it only took you a year to figure out how to answer a phone without hanging up first -color me impressed."

"First of all, we had resumes in the 40s. They aren't that new of an invention. Secondly, yeah, I’m ancient. But at least I didn’t grow up thinking TikTok was a valid news source." He raises an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I’ve fought dictators with more self-awareness than you."

"Do you even know what TikTok is, grandpa? Or did you just hear Sam say it once and decide to be mad about it?" I feel my heart pounding in my chest as my anger builds up. He just won't quit.

To be fair, neither will I.

Whatever.

"I don’t need to know what it is, Y/N. You think I’m wasting my time watching people dance around on the internet?" He crosses his arms, clearly annoyed. "I’ve got better things to do than-" He cuts himself off. His drawn brows slowly pull apart. "We need to stop." He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself down.

His words cut through my anger-filled mind, hitting me with a moment of clarity. He's right. We're doing exactly what we were sent here to stop doing.

"You're..." I hesitate to say the word. It physically pains me. "right." I sigh, agreeing with the man. I glance down at my bags, my fingers fidgeting at the strap of my backpack. Part of me wants to keep fighting. Part of me wants to keep digging in my heels and hating everything about this. But another part... the part that’s more exhausted than anything... doesn’t want to fight anymore. I just want to go to sleep. The stress from the past few days and the long trip really took a toll on me.

Instead of getting cocky like I expected, his brows shoot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting me to give in so easily.

"Alright...well, I'm going to go upstairs and find a room -not the master suite." He picks up his suitcase again. He glances down at the two suitcases resting at my feet. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I notice something in his eyes—hesitation, like he’s not sure if he should keep pushing or just... back off. "Do you...do you need help bringing up your stuff?" He asks, his voice low, like he’s not sure if I’ll snap at him for it.

It's my turn to stare at him in shock.

Bucky Barnes...helping me?

That's a first.

I blink, thrown off by the sudden offer. For a second, I just stare at him, my mind working to process what he’s saying.

I open my mouth to refuse, to shoot him down like I always do, but something holds me back. Maybe it’s the fact that carrying these damn bags up two flights of stairs doesn’t exactly sound like a fun time. Or maybe it’s the fact that, for the first time, I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there's a possibility we don’t always have to be at each other’s throats.

I let out a breath, trying to steady myself. "Fine. But don’t think this means I’m suddenly your best friend."

He nods, his expression unreadable as he walks over to grab my bags without a word. He begins to carry them along with his out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I watch him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the situation.

And just like that, the argument is over. For now.

--------

The morning light is harsh through the small windows, slicing through the cabin with no regard for the awkward silence hanging in the air. I can feel the weight of two weeks settling over me as I sit up in bed. Bucky’s already awake, of course. He’s always awake early.

If we were at the compound, he'd almost be done training by now. Bucky loves his routines.

I shuffle into the kitchen, still groggy, and see Bucky standing at the counter with a coffee cup in hand. He doesn’t acknowledge me, and I’m not in the mood to acknowledge him either. The moment I reach for the coffee machine, my eyes catch a post-it note stuck to the side of it.

Do not touch the coffee until I’ve had my first cup. – Bucky.

I can feel the annoyance creeping up my neck, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I turn on the stove, making myself a quick breakfast and deciding to leave him to his rituals. His mornings are the same: precise, silent, and filled with the deep frown that seems to permanently mark his face. I don’t get him. I never will.

Spontaneity makes life fun. I like waking up and not knowing what I'm going to eat for breakfast. It's like a little surprise. I also like going throughout my day, not knowing what I'm going to do or who I'm going to see. It keeps things fun.

I’m finishing my toast when Bucky finally speaks, still not looking at me. “You’re gonna need to take your stuff out of the fridge,” he says, his voice stiff.

I glance over at the fridge, where my eggs and yogurt are squeezed in beside his protein shakes and old cans of tuna. There’s a post-it note on the door now.

Keep your food on your side. – Bucky.

My teeth grind together, and I fight the urge to snap something back.

Civil. I need to be civil.

Instead, I nod curtly. “Noted,” I mutter, picking up my food and bringing it along with me.

I retreat into the living room, eager to get some space. I can hear the sound of Bucky pouring his coffee as I settle down on the couch. There’s something comforting about the chaos of reality TV, the drama, the mindless bickering. I turn on the TV, the familiar blaring voices filling the room.

Bucky appears in the doorway, already scowling.

“Really?” he asks, crossing his arms, his eyes narrow as he watches the screen. “You’re watching this crap?”

Of course, he doesn't like reality TV. I bet the only thing he watches is nature documentaries. And he definitely needs to plan that into his day ahead of time.

I barely glance up, but I can feel his gaze burning into me. “Yeah. What’s the problem?” I reply, trying to act casual while I scroll through the options.

Every once in a while, the TV screen will distort, a sign of the horrible signal out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s just... ridiculous. It’s all fake. Why would you waste your time on this?”

I can’t help but smirk. “Well, I find it entertaining,” I say, popping a piece of toast into my mouth. “It’s better than, I don’t know, making everything a drill sergeant routine.”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head, obviously irritated. “You could be doing something productive.”

“Like what?” I shoot back, but I don’t care enough to engage in the same conversation again. It’s easier to just keep watching the show. At least reality TV drama doesn't involve me.

He mutters something under his breath, something I can’t quite catch. After a moment, he makes his way over to the partially sunken recliner and turns to look at the show. His entire body is stiff, like he’s holding in some rage.

I can tell he’s not going to leave until I acknowledge his discomfort, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I lean back on the couch, my legs stretched out in front of me on the coffee table as I continue watching.

After what feels like an eternity of him seething in silence, Bucky stands up abruptly. “I don’t know how you can watch this trash,” he grumbles, walking toward the kitchen.

We love a passive-aggressive drama queen.

I don’t even look at him, too busy enjoying the ridiculousness of the show. “You’re free to go do whatever you want, Bucky,” I call after him, my voice thick with sarcasm. “If you don’t like it, you can always head out into the woods and have a silent staring contest with the trees. They'll match your vibe perfectly: Silent and broody.”

He doesn’t answer, but I catch the faintest mutter, “Asshole,” as he storms off.

I let out a small, vindictive laugh to myself. That felt good.

Not even five minutes later, there’s a Post-it note stuck to the coffee table.

If you’re going to keep watching that crap, keep the volume down. - Bucky.

I roll my eyes but don’t respond. Instead, I grab the remote and turn up the volume just a little bit louder, letting the voices echo around the cabin.

Later in the afternoon, I’m sprawled out on the couch, now fully invested in the chaos of the show. I’m halfway through the latest episode when I see another post-it note. It’s stuck to the arm of the couch, right by my shoulder.

The noise isn’t the only thing that’s annoying. Can you clean up after yourself once in a while? - Bucky.

I glance around the living room, taking in the few crumbs from my snack and the empty cup I left on the counter. I guess this is his way of saying he doesn’t like the mess. Not that I care. He doesn’t like anything about me. And I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.

I scribble a quick note on a post-it, sticking it right by his coffee mug on the counter where he’ll see it.

This is my cabin too, right? It’s not like you’re the only one who’s allowed to be here. – Y.

I sit back, satisfied, as I continue watching the reality TV show, ignoring the underlying tension that seems to be building between us.

I wake up to the smell of coffee and something… burnt. Not fire-alarm burnt. Just slightly scorched ego burnt.

Bucky’s already in the kitchen, standing like he’s guarding national secrets in front of the stove. He doesn’t look at me when I shuffle in, blanket still wrapped around my shoulders like a personal shield. But there’s a note waiting on the counter—of course there is.

It’s stuck to a plate holding two very crispy slices of toast and a sad little smear of jam.

Figured I’d make enough for two. Next time, don’t leave your crumb trail in my peanut butter. – B.

I blink at it. Then at him.

He still doesn’t glance over. Just sips his coffee and stares out the window like it personally offended him.

I grab the plate without a word and pour myself some coffee. The toast crunches like gravel when I bite into it. It’s awful. I eat it anyway.

On my way to grab a napkin, I slap a new post-it down beside the coffee pot.

Your 1943 war ration bread is a health hazard. In other words, if your toast were a contestant on Survivor, it would be voted off the island. 1/10. Jam is communal. Like manners. – Y/N

I can feel him read it, even though he doesn’t say anything. His jaw tightens like he’s either trying not to laugh… or not to strangle me.

We eat in silence. The tension is weirdly quieter than usual -not the usual storm, more like fog.

Eventually, we somehow both end up in the living room. Once again, I grab the remote and flip on my reality show, volume low but not that low. The familiar theme music plays, overly dramatic and stupid in the best way.

I don’t look at him, but I hear the faintest groan -like his soul is physically trying to leave his body.

“This again?” he mutters.

I shrug. “I don’t complain about your 5 a.m. brooding walks.”

“That’s because I don’t do them with a dramatic soundtrack and drunk contestants.”

I sip my coffee. “You’d be more fun if you picked a favorite.” A grin spreads across my face. "Ooh, we could watch The Bachelorette. See which bachelor you root for."

“I’d rather eat drywall.” He grumbles.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

He doesn’t answer.

I bump the volume up by one notch.

He doesn’t leave the room.

And neither do I.

I’m halfway through an episode of my show when Bucky’s phone starts ringing -some weirdly intense ringtone that sounds like someone smashing a piano.

He looks at the screen and groans. “Of course.”

“What?” I ask, glancing at the man. He flips the phone around so I can see: Nick Fury, Incoming Call.

I sit up straighter. “Don’t answer it in here.” Panic begins to build in my chest. I look like shit. I haven't been productive. I still hate Bucky. Fury's going to kick my ass.

Or send someone to do it for him.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in pajamas and if Fury sees this show playing, he’ll put me on a no-screen list.” My eyes are wide while I stare at Bucky pleadingly.

Too late. Bucky accepts the call. And of course it’s FaceTime.

Fury’s one good eye immediately narrows. “Barnes. Y/N.”

I wave, trying to tuck my blanket higher like it’s a disguise. “Hey, Director. What's up? What do we owe this pleasure?”

“Are you two still breathing?” he asks, deadpan, not answering my question.

I glance at Bucky. “Unfortunately.”

“Funny.” Fury’s sarcasm level is dialed to lethal. “I’d ask if there’s been progress, but judging by the tension I can literally feel through the screen, I’ll skip to the point.”

Bucky folds his arms. “Let me guess—another punishment?”

“It’s a team-building activity,” Fury says, which might be worse. “Since neither of you seems capable of existing in the same room without someone developing a migraine, you’re going to create something together.”

“Like… art?” I ask warily.

Yay. Just what I wanted to spend my afternoon doing.

Fury smirks, and I hate that look. “A birdhouse.”

I blink. “A what?” He can't be serious.

“You heard me. I just sent coordinates to the nearest supply drop location. Go pick it up. Build the damn birdhouse. Together. You’ve got six hours.”

Bucky’s jaw is tight enough to crack concrete. “And if we don’t?”

“You’re here for two weeks,” Fury says. “Every task you fail means another two days added to your stay.”

He ends the call.

Bucky turns slowly toward me. “A birdhouse?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You punch robots for a living. I think you can handle wood glue.”

“Can you handle not talking for five minutes while I read the instructions?” He shoots back.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I interrupt your sulking schedule? Edward Cullen, is that you?” I gasp.

He mutters something under his breath and grabs his coat that I barely catch. "Who the fuck is Edward Cullen?"

------

The supply drop is an actual metal case hidden under a tarp by a rock outcropping. Like we’re building a tactical avian bunker. We haul it back to the cabin in silence.

Inside: wood planks, nails, a tiny hammer (which Bucky immediately scoffs at), and one bottle of glue.

Plus a packet labeled: "TEAM MISSION – Document With Photo Proof."

Bucky holds up the hammer. “You use this. I’ll break it in half.”

“You’re not allowed to break anything,” I remind him sweetly. “Or it’s another two days in hell.”

We start sorting pieces. Five minutes in, we’re already fighting over who gets to hold the blueprint.

“No, that’s upside down,” I argue while trying to snatch the blueprint from his hands.

“I know which way is up,” he snaps back, moving the paper out of my reach.

“You’ve been frozen for half your life! You barely know what the internet is!”

His glare could melt steel.

An hour later, the birdhouse is somehow standing, though it leans like it’s avoiding us on purpose. There’s glue all over my fingers and sawdust in Bucky’s hair.

“Picture time,” I say, reaching for my phone.

“We’re not taking a picture next to this thing,” Bucky says. “It looks like a war crime.”

“Then smile like you just committed one.”

He doesn’t smile.

I snap the photo anyway. Us standing stiffly on either side of the crooked birdhouse, not touching, not smiling, and practically vibrating with mutual irritation.

I text it to the number Fury gave us.

“Done,” I say, sitting back with a sigh.

Bucky grunts. “We’ve got twelve more days of this.”

I stare at the birdhouse, tilting even more now. “It’s gonna be a long two weeks.”

------

TAGLIST: @buckysdoll85 @starfly-nicole @vxllys @succulent-momma @amandato300

Pt. 3 soon

[shadamypositivity]

a negative post under the cut (not from me, I'm just commentating on it)

(See OG post below.)

due to the nature of my blog normally I wouldn't even bring this up but a) I'm bored while IT is working on my computer (AGAIN) and b) i like a good discussion.

I'm gonna skip over the obvious fallacies of shadamy being a fake ship (bc what does that mean, I have no idea) and that SEGA never acknowledges it (they clearly have) or markets Shadamy (if the Shadamy Sakura series and them being marketed together didn't clue them in, then they are willingly ignorant abt it lol)

I did want to discuss the Amy Rose Minnie Mouse aspect and her "purpose of the franchise" bc i actually have a lot of thoughts to this! And before I go one, it should go without saying but I do love SonAmy, it's very cute and they're characters who can have good chemistry and deserve good things! Anyway, here's my thoughts.

Amy being created to be Sonic's Minnie Mouse as far as I had read it was pressure from the company to make Sonic more marketable (i.e. adding girl character, hero saves damsel quests etc). What i love about how they went about it was flipping the script, especially for the era, it was more commonplace for damsel characters to be the sweet, love interest (Minnie, princess peach, princess daphne) that the hero pursues as a goal to complete as well as a reward for his efforts.

Sonic being adverse to Amy's advances, who is supposedly created to be the love interest, is unique and adds to his personality which was a really good move imo. it added to the edge that Sonic kind of gives as a protagonist, his sass, his impatience, his cock sure nature while also being altruistic and loyal of course, but him viewing Amy as a friend that he occasionally has to rescue and bear the affections of is objectively silly and fun.

Now, pertaining to Amy's purpose of the franchise being Sonic's endgame love interest, I do take a lot more issue with. Not only does it invalidate Amy's space in this franchise, making her no more than a romantic reward for the ending of Sonic's hero's quest (because, if SEGA thinks Sonic won't "slow down" for Amy now, it implies he will have to undergo some sort of change or, less noble, when he seems himself ready to reciprocate Amy's feelings on his terms, irregardless of how long he makes Amy wait for him) but it also ironically makes Sonamy make less sense canonically.

Like, if Amy is only meant to work as Sonic's female, romantic counterpart, why does SEGA not let it happen canonically? Because it's not a ship war thing honestly, most of the GP already assumes they are and there's plenty of valentines merch to suggest otherwise, so...why not just do it? probably because it doesn't make sense for Sonic's character and I don't just mean for SonAmy, honestly, I mean it for any and all Sonic ships. It isn't that Sonic doesn't love or wouldn't have romantic feelings, it's that I think he doesn't allow himself those attachments. Friends are everything in this world and I've always loved this franchise for showcasing an array of lovely strong friendships, but the difference in friends and significant others is that there's compromise, there's balance, there's giving up things, there's building a home and a family and doing things as 2 as opposed to only needing to worry about yourself. friendships are no less of a love than romance but there's also a lot more grace in friendships when it comes to responsibilities and emotional compromises. I'm getting into the weeds a bit here but what I mean to say is that Sonics character doesn't make sense for a romantic partner, free like the wind and on an eternal hero's journey. It has also never appeared to be a want of his to be able to have these things (but im willing to be proven otherwise) Maybe down the road it would, but that's not fair to Amy or any other partner for that matter. Amy's whole world doesn't need to revolve around waiting for her hero to be ready to accept her, especially to a character so full and rich in love and affections to give.

It doesn't escape me that one of Amy's most defining and strongest showing was because of Shadow. This is kind of where I can get extremely biased and go on and on about how great a story arc would be for Shadamy to become endgame. Briefly, Sonamy being canon kind of takes away from Sonic's character, while Shadamy enriches. Amy who obsesses and does everything for the attention of her first love finding her own purpose and making her world bigger by being her own hero which was the case for her finding her courage after feeling useless by helping Shadow to remember his promise just by being herself. Shadow who is jaded and hurt and isolated from friends and the world he now lives in finding love and affection and strength in those things because of Amy Rose's big heart. Idk, it's all very poetic to me.

So in conclusion, Sonamy and Shadamy good, but writing wise, Shadamy has a lot more going for it. One of my irl friends who watches sonic things over my shoulder has always taken issue with Sonamy being the canon default bc of her pursuing and Sonics pushing away. When I introduced her to the idea of Shadamy she hoped on with more enthusiasm haha probably bc it was around the mosth era and that was a pretty good showing for them haha. anyway. these are my humble thoughts. I'm not all knowing of this franchise or think myself correct in every way but idk. I don't think its fair to rule out character shipping just bc it wasn't the original intention. that happens all the time with things after all (RIP canon zutara) so maybe op can take a chill pill 😅

[jedibinx]

Q: You worked hard to make yourself one of the top names in Finland. You won UMK and represented Finland in ESC with your popularity exploding, how did it feel?

K: Let's say for the first couple of weeks after it (UMK) happened I was seeking it out, whether people would recognize me. Usually that tells about something happening and your thing is spreading (getting more popular). Obviously having a unique hairstyle and such make you stand out. At first it was super cool and I couldn't grasp what was even happening. But at some point it started turning into a negative direction. I didn't really dare to go out anymore and stayed at home, then it felt like home wasn't the place for peace either. Of course it's because I had so much work and such that everything was running on my mind. So, it really changed a lot. So if somebody wants to do something for fame, think twice. It's like buying a new car or something, fun for the first couple of weeks, that boom, until you get numb and become a wreck. 

STOP CREEPSHOTTING CELEBRITIES. STOP STALKING THEM. STOP ACTIVELY SEEKING THEM OUT IN A TOWN. STOP TREATING THEM LIKE PERFORMING MONKEYS DO YOU NOT LISTEN TO KÄÄRIJÄS SONGS??? THEY'RE PEOPLE TOO WITH FEELINGS. JUST STOP 🛑🛑🛑

"oh it's not that deep" YES IT IS! ITS DESTROYING PEOPLE'S MENTAL HEALTH. THEY ARE SCARED TO GO OUTSIDE! WTF THATS NOT HOW IT SHOULD BE. FUCK YOU IF YOU THINK ITS NOT THAT DEEP. FUCK YOU ENTIRELY.

Translation

I'm sorry, I try and stay positive but this just gets my fucking back up. People have no respect or concept of boundaries any more. It's not just creepy but it's fucking rude, too. Of the highest order.

[existence-is-a-pain87]

Can you Do Scraps Plz

Alrighty! As a warning, I haven't been fortunate enough to get enough things to play as Scraps in the game, so I'm going off the wiki. If I'm doing anything wrong regarding her in character or anything, please tell me immediately so I can go fix it!

Also, this story is written with the assumption those who read it have a pet cat. Because I have a cat and also think having a cat would have some unique benefits in the story. (Also I just like cats. And yes, you guys can have pictures of my cat if you ask <3)

There for You

Yandere!Self-Aware!Scraps x Reader

Warnings: Obsession and general yandere behaviors

--☆☆☆☆☆--

Scraps was one of the Toons who grew curious about you when she heard you.

She saw Goob's excitement, heard his curious rambles about you, his questioning if you liked hugs, how he really wanted to hug you since your voice made you sound like the most huggable person in the whole world!

She was a little more skeptical, worrying if you weren't a good person. What if you wanted to hurt her? What if you wanted to hurt Goob?

Then she heard you get excitement over having a Goob join your run. Heard you remark how you wanted to play as him but needed more research.

Even if you got frustrated whenever a Twisted Scraps or Twisted Goob appeared, she quickly figured out you just didn't like having to deal with being attacked at a range.

You cared about her and her younger brother.

So is it surprising she grew to care about you?

--☆☆☆--

Soon she started learning more things about you.

You liked to draw and create.

She would love to make arts and crafts with you! She hopes you know some good things to make!

You were airheaded and a bit forgetful.

Just like her! Hehe!

You liked other games too.

She just hopes Dandy's World is your favorite. She doesn't want you to get distracted and stop playing. That would make Goob sad!

And make her sad too...

And, much to her glee, you had a pet cat!

Even if she wasn't a cat, that meant you had to like her! Everyone calls her a cat anyways, so that means if you like cats, you like her!

She just hopes you'll like her more than your pet cat...

Why shouldn't she tell you about herself if she was able to learn so much about you?

When you finally managed to get her Toon form and play as her, it wasn't hard for the rest of your team to die and for it to just be you and her entering the elevator.

It was hilariously easy to say a new line, her commenting on how she wanted to try doing something new, and for you to speak.

To speak and be completely unaware of how she heard you.

You offered the idea of crocheting little animals into the shape of these cutesy little balls. How bees would be a great start.

She loved your idea. The moment you finished playing and left to do something else for a bit, she immediately got started.

She made all sorts of animals. She gave some to Goob.

Scraps loves your ideas.

She wants to hear more of them.

--☆☆☆--

Scraps hates seeing you cry.

One you played, quietly sobbing because something went wrong in your life.

Fortunately, you were playing as her.

So it wasn't hard to start saying new lines. One's you barely noticed were different.

But you started venting.

And Scraps listened.

She would do anything to help you.

That was the day she made her promise.

--☆☆☆--

Scraps made a little figurine of you.

She didn't know what you looked like, so she designed you off of what your voice sounded like.

You sounded kind, so she made you look kind.

You sounded creative, so she made you look creative.

Goob helped. He said you sounded like you were the most huggable person to ever be hugged, so your little figurine was perfect to hug.

Scraps even went and made little figurines of her and Goob to stay with your figurine.

She put them in a little shrine she made.

She always made sure to add new crafts to the shrine she made for you each and every day!

She loves you.

She loves you so much.

She promises one thing.

Her one promise she'll never forget nor break.

She'll always be there for you.

[spacetimeaccordionfolder]

i feel like i'm loosing my mind trying to figure out when Kayne learned Lillith was following Arthur and John/ that she's what's different about this Arthur than other Arthurs.

This got long, so I'm providing a read more. I did figure out when I think Kayne learns of Lillith following, but I'm still confused on what made Kayne think Lillith's what made Arthur survive. I've got some ideas, but think we're either missing a big piece of information or that Kayne jumped to a conclusion.

When does Kayne learn Lillith is following Arthur?

In 52, Kayne says "Once I thought someone was fucking with me, I only needed one guess." Okay you know i'm just putting the quote here

And this is a reference to 20, right? the "maybe someone's just fucking with me"

"Y’know, I think I’m starting to like you. Maybe that’s it. Maybe someone likes you and they are just fucking with me, knowing it’ll drive me crazy. (Aside, to himself.) Lillith, you bitch. (To Arthur.) Okay! Okay."

So Kayne in 20 goes to meet Arthur. He wants to know what's so special about Arthur that he survived taking the King's heart, instead of popping like a ripe cherry, to use Kayne's colorful simile. By this point, Kayne's already watched Arthur's life. He's already seen Arthur's parents die, and still is asking what is special about Arthur. Middle of the conversation, we get the above comment. Maybe someone likes Arthur and they're just fucking with Kayne. Says that "It’s true that you have something special, something that even I can’t see, but unless that something is ‘unfathomable power at your fingertips’… "

Next time Kayne really references Arthur's uniqueness is Intermezzo. At least, I scanned Coda, The Undefeated, and the Order and there was nothing about that.

And we get:

ARTHUR: I thought you said I was unique.

KAYNE (excitedly): O-O-Oh! You have no idea. Not yet. 

(Brief tangent - earlier in the episode we get this exchange

ARTHUR: What do you want with the Stone?

KAYNE: Why doesn’t matter. Not now. Not yet.

Two "not yet." 's first about why Kayne wants the Blackstone and second about why Arthur's unique. And we got those reveals at the same time. yay!)

So his "you have no idea. not yet" seems like he's figured things out between 20 and Intermezzo, but then there's more in intermezzo that suggests he hadn't yet.

first -

ARTHUR: But what does all that have to do with me?

KAYNE: Well, I told you! You’re special. At first, I thought it was just me, but really, I think this world has some serious power after Shub blinked out of existence!

(this is after Kayne explains how he plays all the keys now and how he's an anomaly)

And - most importantly to my question here-

Kayne says here something about Arthur is different, but he doesn't know what. And that's the last reference by Kayne to Arthur being different till 52.

So in 52, Kayne says once he thought someone was fucking with him he thought about Lillith. And figured out she was what made this Arthur different, by helping, guiding, manipulating, giving him a way to survive.

20- no clue what made Arthur different (having watched his life and his parents die and still doesn't know) or why he survived.

Intermezzo- ????

52- says Lillith is what made Arthur different and why he survived.

I'm thinking maybe he had suspicions in Intermezzo, but didn't know for sure. Mentions his daughter possibly to see how Arthur reacts.

So theoretically, Kayne decided Lillith's influence is what made Arthur survive, while on the other end of the Yorick phone listening to Arthur and John in the 1200s.

In 42, after Yorick is "given a mouth" Yorick says

And this (Yorick always listening) isn't really addressed more as the insects inside the prince decide to burst out of him. The main focus with Yorick becomes what question to ask him to get the most relevant information. "I do not have the foresight to know what you require and what you do not." as Yorick says... and then suggests they go looking for the Witch's talisman instead of immediately getting out of the caves, which leads to Arthur being stabbed, and the Witch dying, and then her hand being cut off when Yorick suggests they might need it to make the doors in the labyrinth open. (AHHHHHH)

So Yorick's always listening. Kayne "had [his] good little soldier make the Hand of Malevolence for [him]." with the intention of using it to keep Lillith from talking. Yorick can hear Kayne. If the Hand was made with the purpose of being used on Lillith, then Kayne knew Lillith was following them definitely before episode 47 (when the Hand is made), but probably before episode 44 (when Yorick suggests to cut off the Witch's hand). We're looking at Kayne knowing Lillith is following and may be a problem before they enter the caves. Meaning! The Windmill!

How much do you want to bet Kayne was listening on the other end of the Yorick phone at this moment. Arthur's cracking up laughing at them being worried over an owl, and Kayne's listening in just mouth agape realizing that yeah Lillith is following them and hmmmmm he needs to plan for this.

Guy must have been punching the air when John promised Yorick anything if he helped him with the Witch, to trust him. Also Kayne listening in does make the "I do not believe he is listening. Your calls go unanswered" comment funnier. "Kayne! John wishes to speak with you!" "ehhh tell Marigold I'm busy" Kayne's sending John to voicemail.

Yorick asks for the hand and to alter it as requested in exchange for trusting John before the owl shows up again in 44, meaning Kayne's already got the "make the Hand" plan based on 41-early 44.

So to partly answer my question: Kayne knew Lillith was following them shortly after dropping Arthur and John in medieval england in 41.

What makes Kayne decide Lillith is what makes this Arthur different?

Then there's the "Giving you help, Artie! Guiding you, shaping, manipulating, giving you a way to survive! Remember? All your other versions couldn’t keep it together."

Kayne goes from "Lillith is following Arthur and John" to "Lillith is what makes this Arthur different." Why? What makes him think that?? And is she??? is she what makes him different??? Or is he wrong? Is he jumping to conclusions?????

It kind of feels like a "my kid is out to get me." He knows she's trying to stop him. Her words are her power- he makes her unable to talk to ensure she can't stop him/ that she behaves during the conversation with Arthur.

Next point here- There's the "I wonder if my dear daughter told you why you are her… favorite."

This wording isn't a "why she made you different." This isn't a here's why and how Lillith affected you such that you survived. But it's one of the few crumbs of evidence I think I can find that Kayne used as a base for his conclusion of "Lillith made Arthur different and has been guiding him"

From 52: "Mom and Pop Lester were just like all those other devotees.[...] Trying to worship what they couldn’t understand.[...] And Lillith was just the one to give them everything they ever wanted.[...] ...She spared you, Artie.... Now that you are well informed and have all the information…" [I removed Arthur's lines and like one sentence]

We don't know what the Lesters wanted. We don't know what Lillith gave them. But they died. And Arthur was left sleeping peacefully.

(hey quick aside reread 20 earlier and it looks like from Arthur's poem that he had nightmares as a kid a lot. So that's a fun detail to think about in the context of the Lesters worshiping Lillith.)

A few more things- Yorick has been listening to them since Kellin pulled Samantha's head from the lake and knows about Scratch. In 47, Yorick says "you have been watched since you first arrived here" - further cementing that Kayne learned of Lillith in 41 - that he doesn't know who watches, it's not Kayne but she's of a similar power level, and she's "following you, watching over, waiting for something." When asked about this, Yorick say he's done his own research. That "she intends to follow at a distance and maintain an eye on… you, so to speak." (I'm thinking the "... you, so to speak" was about the Blackstone.) Yorick also reveals that the being following them was Scratch, now whole.

Yorick was also present for the whole Mother Darkness and Lillith confrontations in 50 and 51 respectively. From Mother Darkness, we get that Lillith told her to stay her hand against Arthur. Arthur also contemplates whether Lillith is the lesser evil between her and Kayne after this conversation, and John says he'd side with Kayne over her if it kept the deal. Presumably Kayne hears all of this. From Lillith, there's more of the "you see me as you always have" comments and that Lillith does care about Arthur, Alia, and humanity to some extent.

That can't be it. Where's the rest. Kayne. Kayne this can't be all the information you are using for this conclusion.

Perhaps some of the evidence we lack lies in the lives of the other Arthurs. Arthur's parents don't kill themselves in every world. Perhaps Lillith wasn't involved either there, or wasn't at Marie's house, or didn't get trapped where ever she was. Perhaps the big piece of evidence Kayne has is that Lillith is here in this world, whereas she isn't involved in the others. Kayne's possibly doing a "correlation equals causation," and it really doesn't.

I'd like to point out something. Before 20 Kayne already had seen Arthur's parents die. Kayne watched his life. He phrased it "watched your parents kill themselves." Even though in 52, he says they didn't actually do it, but that Lillith killed them. Perhaps whatever they asked Lillith and why she killed them amounted to basically them asking for death. An ending of some kind- like how Lillith gives Alia dreams, possibly killing her by not letting her wake, a peaceful end. Either that's (your parents killed themselves) a lie or a stretch of the truth or the Lesters were suicidal and asked for death. Or he didn't see Lillith in that memory. But in 20, assuming Kayne saw how Arthur's parents actually died, Kayne still doesn't know what makes Arthur special and why he survived. So it has to be more than Lillith merely causing Arthur's parent's deaths and sparing him.

So:

What's up with this guy causing a kerfuffle? He didn't die when he took Hastur's heart. Weird. Wonder why? Oh his parents were killed by Lillith? that doesn't answer my question. Time to talk to him!

Okay I got no answers from talking to this guy but he's kind of fun and I like him. I'm giving him a shiny dagger and watching to see what happens.

This guy is weirdly unique. Maybe this world has some power since Shub went out of existence here? Maybe there's something else I can't see? It's kind of like the blackstone. There's something different about this one, even from the other Arthur's, and I don't know what that is and it's bothering me. Well I might as well use that to get the Blackstone.

OH FUCK THAT'S MY KID

why is my kid following my guy. hey. no. that's my guy. get your own.

Okay make a plan so that your kid doesn't fuck up your plan.

ooh a witch! magic silence hand yeah that will work. that way she won't sass me and I definitely won't cry in front of my guy.

My rebellious teen punk immortal daughter has apparently been following my guy since he made her whole again. heard that happened but was busy watching Johnny try to explain nearly chopping off a priest's arm to pay attention to that. that was fun.

I am so close to fixing the world and this guy will not stop worrying that he should possibly give my shiny rock to my daughter instead of me. How dare he.

Oh and she has cared for him since he was little! Aw that's sweet. Great. yeah she's out to get me and she did some influencing of my guy.

(hypothetical other point- Lillith maybe wasn't as involved -either no scratch, or not trapped, or no dead parents- in the other worlds. She's here and this one succeeded. Kayne's correlating those two facts.)

Conclusion: This guy is different because Lillith has been guiding, shaping, and manipulating him this entire time and made him survive.

Here's the thing: Lillith was trapped. One foot in a prison between worlds, one foot in Marie's house. For 30 years. She couldn't have been guiding Arthur this entire time. Maybe Lillith gave Arthur something, shaped him in some way, as a child, that affected his ability to survive as an adult. But she has not been guiding Arthur.

Any help Lillith could give, any guidance, manipulation, shaping, giving a way to survive, that had to happen between years 0 - 4 or in the past month. Perhaps she did something while he was a child. Whatever that was that his parents asked for - whatever Lillith gave to the Lesters and spared Arthur from - maybe that's what makes this Arthur different.

Or maybe Kayne's just looking for something to blame, is already annoyed at Lillith, and decides that, since she's still following him 30 years later, Lillith must have done something to make Arthur survive.

I just feel like there's some evidence missing. That Kayne jumped to a conclusion, or that there's something big we don't know that Kayne left out or technically fits into what we have so his "now that you have all the information" isn't a lie.

[russetfoxfur]

okay so i went a bit insane about the examination of agency in the nightmare's routes, and then this evolved into a deeper examination of the rest of nightmare's whole deal. i am not an analyst so please take everything i say with a grain of salt, but. you know. i find her whole character to be very interesting. rambles under the cut.

okay, so every route the princess begins by being chained to a wall. this is the first thing she knows. she appears to be the ideal of a damsel in distress - she can't move, can't fight on her own at first, can be easily stabbed if your perception of her stays as a damsel in distress. she has no agency in this. she is forced to wait in the cabin until you, an unknown monster-looking thing comes along explicitly to kill her. and if you're quick and doubtless, she ends her life just as it began - born in a chain in a cabin, died in a chain in a cabin. and that's how you get the spectre.

now, the nightmare you can get on either harsh or soft princess. she's unique in this - as far as i remember, the only other princess like this is the stranger, where you don't meet her at all. (please correct me if i'm wrong though, i'm new to this fandom). and - as pointed out in another analysis, though i can't find it now - she's like this because she speaks to the foundational fear that all princesses have, which is going unperceived. she adapts based on what you are, and while she'll treat you differently if you try to kill her or save her at first, she will always revert to the nightmare when you meet her and then refuse to engage with her at all.

by refusing to perceive her you take away her agency. when you fight her she at least has the chance to fight back. if you manage to stab her in the heart she can at least provoke you into wondering if she's actually dead. but she has so little agency here, fighting for scraps to keep herself alive in the face of a construct that desperately wants her dead, and you leaving her alone says that you don't even see her as someone who's a threat. while slaying her means seeing her as an apocalypse in the making, and freeing her means seeing her as a pitiful thing locked up in a harsh cabin, leaving her alone means seeing her as absolutely nothing at all.

so she fights back. she slips her chains to try and escape from the cabin on her own terms. i genuinely don't think the shutting-down-the-organs thing is a lie on her part - she doesn't really lie, not unless you think she can, and she doesn't want to kill you at all, as evidenced in her chapter II. she knew you were the key to her escape, and then (in her eyes) you have the spite and sheer audacity to kill yourself just when her freedom is in view, just before she can leave for good. you kill yourself just to make sure she can't have the option of leaving at all.

so, to recap: she's locked up, you abandon her, she tries to escape, you die, she dies.

when we come back to her, the cabin bends to her will. her chains are nowhere in sight - whether they existed in the first place is a mystery. what i find interesting is the sort of prelude to her appearance - when you descend into the basement, you're given a choice between staying, running for the stairs, turning left, or turning right.

no matter which way you go, she always finds you.

she gives you the false choice this time. while before you'd spoken to her, tempted her with freedom and autonomy and agency, you'd snatched it away and left her with the worst fate she can imagine. now she's giving it to you - she tempts you with freedom and agency, and then she snatches it away by showing up no matter where you turn. no one ever talks about it but it's just. she'd said so many things to try and coerce/persuade you into helping her leave, and no matter what she'd said you'd left her anyway. you try and go any way to avoid meeting her and facing the princess again, but no matter which way you go she'll always find you.

anyway.

you pass out a few times as paranoid begins his chant, she reacts with mild curiosity and annoyance, and then you're free to question her. someone else pointed out that her mask never changes - it's frozen in this teasing smile, almost like she's smiling over the pain. (which she definitely is, considering what happens in the leadup to MoC.) she repeatedly reinstates her desire to leave and now gleefully talks about the world ending. what has it ever done for her, anyway? she also teases lq with death, just like he teased her with freedom. an eye for an eye.

a few highlights of her dialogue: when told that she's a lunatic, she responds, "I am what I am. And right now, what I am is in control." she also then teases him with death again. how the tables have turned. if you've got the knife, you can tell her you might just kill her instead, to which she warns the player and then says, "This place is mine. And I'm not giving you the stairs unless I'm leaving with you." she then demonstrates you by trapping you in the cabin if you decide to slay her right then and there. everything else is pretty standard - talking about her plans when she's free, talking about what happened after she died. these are interesting in their own right, but not for this analysis.

then, once you've exhausted all dialogue options, you have a few more options, three of which lead to chapter IIIs which have interesting takes on agency as well. you can remain with her, run, leave with her, or (if you have the knife) stab her.

both running and remaining - seemingly opposing actions - lead to the same outcome: the moment of clarity. this happens when you've finally exhausted all other possible outcomes, and all that's left for you to do is to let. her. out. you have no other choice - they're all grayed out. whether it's a broken hero or your own amnesia-blocked trauma doing this is anyone's guess, but the fact remains.

in the leadup to the moment of clarity, she takes off her mask, the thing that's kept her seeming morbidly cheerful and playful throughout the rest of the route despite her multiple open threats and gleeful hatred of the world. the narrator describes, in detail, a horrific existence which she is baring to you in an attempt to get you to help her to leave. she takes off her mask, stops playing nice with you, and tries to get you to see her side of the story, tries to get you to at least pity her and leave.

it's so bad the narrator stops narrating and refuses to go on.

think about this. this is the guy who narrates the entirety of the fury sequence, cool and calm. he describes the nightmarish cabin matter-of-factly a few minutes before, which hero points out. he isn't bothered by you getting killed except that it means his plans are ruined and the world is doomed, and he tells you about various gruesome deaths such as being crushed by vines or watching the prisoner chop her own head off. the only other times i can think of that he despairs like this is when you fail your mission (by freeing or dying to the princess) or when he himself is in danger (getting burned up by apotheosis, getting controlled by the tower). but in nightmare, the vision is so horrible that he cannot stand going on. (paranoid also stops chanting at this time, but he does that before when his concentration is broken. narry is notably VERY DEAD SET on his goal of slaying the princess. he's not like this!)

what this vision is exactly, i cannot tell, but for the sake of this analysis i'm going to interpret it as what she is, behind the mask, behind the facade of a vessel. shifty offloads the nature of her existence, the purest distillation of change - a lifetime, the circle of life, bloom and decay and burgeoning rot over and over and over again, success and fame turning into scandals and dishonor and poverty, humans living and changing into monsters or saints, every choice you make irreversibly altering the tapestry of time you are a part of. she represents the future and its unpredictable nature, and people trying to adapt to changing societal pressures and failing to evolve fast enough, and each unlucky twist of fate that leads to ruin and despair. she is survival of the fittest, and she is testing you.

this is what the nightmare is, under the mask. a monster, a murderer, the essence of death and destruction. this is what you are denying agency.

in this light, refusing shifty's offer of godhood seems almost reasonable. maybe she's trapped here for a reason. death is... pretty bad, isn't it? if our cool-headed narrator doesn't want her out, maybe there's a reason for that. maybe he's loved and lost - maybe he's seeing reflections of himself, in the princess' experiences, and the reason why he's so set on you slaying her is to prevent this nightmare from happening to anyone else.

you die, of course. you have the audacity to die. and when you wake again - we don't know whether she's hopeful you've learned the error of your ways, or whether she's still as forceful as in chapter II, but one thing's for certain - she doesn't win. you still act as the prison guard. you still keep her away from her only goal, and you become determined to keep it that way.

so you guard the door. you slay her. you romance her and question her and murder her and you end up with different voices, each time, different fragments of change that help you evolve to fight her but you always end up with the same princess with the same goal and nothing's getting better and you keep on denying her freedom because she's clearly awful and you're clearly the guard to an irredeemable prisoner.

from her perspective, mind you, she's been locked in a room for no reason, teased with escape, accidentally killed you while trying to leave, entertained your faints and questions, bared her soul to you in order to get you to understand why leaving her alone is such a bad idea, and then you died and promptly doubled down on your decision.

it's hell for her! she doesn't know why you're doing this! she's forced to react to your actions, because you're the one who can take the knife and you're the one who can leave! she lashes out! how dare you! how dare you keep her trapped here! why can't she leave! why can't she be the one in control of her fate! why do you hate her so much, that you are willing to die over and over just to keep her trapped?

so she lashes out at you. she takes vengeance on her captor, and she hunts you again and again, eroding away your defiance loop by painstaking loop. we don't know exactly what she did. we probably don't want to. but it's bad enough to break the voices, shatter many of them beyond recognition, and outright deny us our autonomy in a way that's only otherwise seen in tower.

and i'm not saying she's a saint! i know this whole analysis i've been on her side but that's because most people aren't! she's undeniably cruel to lq, but the thing most people forget is he was cruel first! she is a creature of perception and he denies her even that basic privilege! and she reacts violently! she lashes out and tries to threaten him into staying! has no qualms with sacrificing the world if she can get out! the nightmare cranks the abandonment anxiety of all the princesses up and adds a vicious vengeance to her as well!

but also. this route shows how hero isn't quite so perfect as he appears to be. you get this route by taking hero's third option, which satisfies no one. (it's also worth noting that HEA is also hero's call.) you abandon her, she who literally never has met anyone beside yourself, and that breaks her. so she tries to cling onto you. she possesses you and shatters you and threatens you and wants you there because she knows nothing else and she's already fractured from shifty's splintering, she can't fracture further, so she'll squeeze and claw for any bit of companionship she can get. she'll hunt you down for sport if it means she can spend a few minutes with you perceiving her. she's lonely is what she is. and she's reacting in the worst way possible.

where were we? oh, right. moment of clarity.

eventually, though, after untold numbers of loops where you keep doggedly trying to keep her locked away, she breaks through. she exhausts your options, traumatizes you, forces you to let her out. she will not be defeated. she will have her way. she makes sure of it.

what i also find interesting is that you're not scared of her anymore. paranoia isn't chanting away in the background. there's no more fear - just resignation. no one's happy with your third option, just as the narrator said back when you made it in the first cabin - everyone just wants it to end, and the only voice of dissent is the narrator, who doesn't even remember what's happened and doesn't know how awful it is to keep on trudging through the same, unchanging story over and over and over again. it's not new, or exciting, or changing anymore. it's just painful. you should really just let her out.

ah, but you might be wise enough not to try and pick that third option, and instead choose the more traditional two options - leaving or slaying.

leaving with the nightmare, like most chapter II endings, is pretty straightforward - you comply with her wishes and let. her. out. if you have the knife, there's a fun moment where paranoid says 'fuck you' to the narrator, but otherwise you give her her agency again. you allow her out. you've learned the error of your ways - now you'll let her free.

and, granted, she does wish death onto the world, but - as detailed above - she does kinda deserve it. i'd let her. she should kill people. i want to watch it happen :3

but if you choose to slay her, she reacts not with indignance but with gleeful wickedness. she can't believe you - a paranoid, helpless thing that she'd decided was barely a person at all, just a key that kept getting stuck in the lock, just a helpless little birdie who couldn't even stay alive in the face of her beauty and power - actually killed her! she's too surprised to be angry, i think. and then that surprise turns into realization - she's already figured out that you were always going to keep coming back until you let. her. out, and she can feel herself changing as a result of your changing perception.

and thus we meet the wraith.

while she has the same dialogue no matter where you kill her, you get different voices depending on where you do it - oppy on the stairs/in the cabin, cold if you do it in the basement. you're also forced to kill yourself either way - she tosses you into the void if you betray her, and you're stuck in the basement if you kill her in the basement since, as mentioned before, she won't give you the stairs. you die either from biology or suicide, and then you go into the wraith.

the wraith is a vengeful creature, and for good reason. she tried being nice to you! she tried talking to you, then tried threatening you, then tried forcing you. but you keep refusing! you keep dying, stubbornly, before you can reach her... you keep killing her before she can reach the outside... you keep teasing her with freedom! you keep her away from freedom, so tantalizingly close yet far.

and she's done being nice. she's seen where that's gotten her - a paranoid corpse and a knife through her heart. it's not her fault you keep dying! you just can't help being so afraid of a shackled princess that you're willing to kill yourself to be rid of her! so she's going to take it by force. she'll be evil. that's the only way things get done around here.

so she transforms into the wraith, a half-dead thing with a skeletal grin and grasping claws. you're introduced to her when she twists your ankle and drags you down to her level. she also explains that she was so, so close to freedom last time, but then you locked her away, killed her, and took her body away from her. so she's going to take your body away and march out that door, and you're going to be completely helpless during all of this, just like she was.

interestingly, she also limits your freedom, just like she did last time - if you ask her questions twice, she'll cut you off and take over your body then and there. she's done entertaining your frivolous questions. she wants to leave. let. her. out. she also goes ahead and possesses you without a second thought if you try to struggle or give up

a few interesting highlights from these explore options: you can claim that you were a victim in all of this, and she says, "Just because someone hurt you doesn't mean you get a free pass to hurt anyone else." some delicious hypocrisy there, wraith, as the voices point out. but perhaps she doesn't even see you as someone who can hurt, thus justifying her possession and torture of you. someone who can hurt would have sympathy for the poor locked up princess in the dark basement, and they certainly wouldn't lock her away and stab her to death. only heartless people do that, and heartless people can't be hurt. if you tell her that possessing you is evil, she says, "After all you've done, why would I ever care what you think of me?" she's past the point of evil and not-evil. to her, you're evil - you hurt her first, after all. whether a villain sees a hero as evil is irrelevant; to her, you're means to an end, an end that is always dancing just out of reach. possessing you is a necessary step to her goal.

she then possesses you.

now that she's in your head, she realizes that you also have voices in your head. oppy is immediately on wraith's side, because of course he is, and cold's a bit ambivalent about the whole ordeal (as he often is), though he's leaning toward your side. narry and hero are mortified, as they are wont.

if you struggle as she possesses you, paranoid's able to save up a bit of will and uses it to help you defy her one last time. first you lock her away in the basement, then you stab her, then you are literally willing to kill yourself and fall forever to be rid of her. she's sadistic as she tries to force you to move, but if you want to - because you're the one with agency here, still, even as she forces you to shamble toward the door on a broken ankle, even as she usurps your body and forces you to watch - you can throw yourself out the window.

as you fall, she asks you why you hate her. why you've always hated her. why you didn't trust her when you locked her away, why you decided to stab a knife through someone who didn't even want to kill you, why you defied her even with a shattered ankle and her voice in your head. why you decided your autonomy was more worthy than hers, way back at the start, back when she didn't even want to kill you. why you hated her into the nightmare, and then the wraith. why you decided she was better off alone and abandoned.

and honestly? you might have a valid reason at this point. she did break your ankle, after all. she did shut down your organs and act gleeful about the end of the world. she's a monster. she's sadistic and cruel and horrible and she possessed you, for goodness' sake! you've been trying to defend yourself against a threat! you're literally dying all the time near nightmare, and wraith greets you by breaking your ankle! like, i understand why people hate her! i'm not saying she's a good person! no one is, in this series! that's part of the appeal!!!

but she never even tried to kill you. (to those who are going to say well what about the organs-shutting-down-thing, think about it rationally: she needs you to get out. you fainting and dying isn't helping her. it's an active detriment. if she could control it, she probably wouldn't do it, because you being dead just shunts you back into the same hellvoid again.) she never locked you away forever. that was you. you keep taunting her with freedom and then shutting her away. you killed her and trapped her and, to her, you forced her into this. you forced her to hurt you and possess you and make you fear her. this isn't her fault. this is yours. for locking her away, for killing her, for denying her her one wish. she tried, in that first chapter. and you decided she wasn't worth the time of day.

personally, i would've made this choice also branch off into MoC. this game doesn't do fourth chapters - and i understand why - but i feel like it would've been fulfilling. she finally gets her freedom after you kill her and kill yourself and lock her away and keep her from getting out. you wouldn't even have to change much - you've already proven you're not going to let her out again. who's to say that the wraith wasn't one of MoC's iterations, and that the voices leading the charge then were also able to store some will and kill themselves before she could escape?

and maybe they were right. we don't know what happened between the nightmare and MoC, and we never will. maybe she was horrifically cruel, an unfeeling maniac. maybe she was pleading to be let out, and you weren't having that. maybe she was doing both. what we know is she never left the cabin.

finally, i want to draw attention to what, exactly, shifty says about each vessel. she gives us our best glimpse into each vessel's psyche, as someone who is part of them. her little speech often endears me to the princess i delivered, even if i wasn't very fond of her.

for the nightmare, she states, "This one is filled with sadness. A doll abandoned to the company of her darkest impulses. She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt. She will make for a tender heart."

this reinforces what i've been saying throughout the whole analysis - most of the nightmare's nightmarish qualities come from her desperate need to be perceived by someone else. to be known. you doom her to a life of eternal loneliness, so she gives into her darkest urges and hurts you, over and over again, to try and win you over. she doesn't know how to do otherwise.

for the moment of clarity she states, "This one is a waiting maw. An inevitable destination where all roads end. She will make for a wise heart."

she chased you over and over until you broke, waiting for you to shatter and let her out. no matter what you tried to do, no matter which choices you made or roads you took, she awaited you, and you awaited her. she was made wise through your attempts to defy her, and eventually she won the long game. it was inevitable, really. you did your best. there's just a pecking order, and you'll always be at the bottom.

and about the wraith she states: "This one is loneliness turned to seething. She could not find her strength in others, so she found it in herself. She will make for a driven heart."

when you refused to save her, when you defied her over and over, she realized she couldn't rely on you to save her. you took everything she had away from her. so she took everything you had - a pristine blade, a free body - away from you instead. she used to be lonely, scared - but now she is powerful, hateful, laughing even as you throw her out a window in a spiteful act of defiance. you monster.

but eventually, inevitably, finally, she rejoins the shifting mound as one of her many perspectives. she finds peace, finally, in the eternal choir of the vessels.

do not mourn her. she is not alone anymore.

...

this analysis is not in defense of her actions - she does do some pretty fucked up things in this! pro tip: do not break people's ankles and then possess them, and also do not torture someone and break their will. just a suggestion.

but the reason i'm making this analysis is that so many people will say that nightmare/MoC (and tower, though this analysis isn't about her (but i love her very much and she was so valid for mind controlling the narrator)) is a horrible irredeemable bitch, and then they'll turn around and praise smitten/oppy/cold.

and that feels... more than a little hypocritical to me. oppy is literally a backstabbing bastard who allies with the person who has the most power - he literally tries to stab you in patd! he is born out of the decision to betray the princess when she's finally thought she could trust you, similarly to the nightmare, except this time you're killing her instead of locking her away. in HEA, he decides that free food is worth more than the princess' happiness, and in thorn he wants to stab the princess because of her newfound vulnerability.

and yet i've seen so many analyses of his behavior! so many people excusing him as a sopping wet cat who just doesn't want to die. and it's like, well, okay, i'm not going to stop you from liking oppy. i'm not a cop. i can get why you might like a morally gray kinda sneaky character. but it just feels a little misogynistic when you hate the nightmare, who also resorts to desperate measures in order to not die, don'tcha think?

or cold! i'm gonna be honest i'm a bit more favorable of cold, but he still advocates for killing the princess when he thinks it'll be interesting. he is literally born when you don't even try to hear the princess out in the first place, coldly stabbing her without a second thought. he values novelty over pain. and yet people will praise him and then turn around and criticize the tower for not caring about you at all!

ugh. i just... hate the shifty neg, you know? so many ppl hate her for being 'manipulative' and 'self-centered' while completely ignoring your own hand in shaping her! she is a creature of perception, after all - the damsel and the tower are wildly different, and they both change based on how you act. each princess is a reflection of your own thoughts toward her. and people hate on the nightmare for *checks script* trying to leave the basement she was locked into, and then reacting violently when the only person she's ever known decides to keep her trapped, possibly for forever. like, you all see why she'd do that, right.

...also, like. god forbid women do anything. even if she did do all that organ-shutting-down stuff of her own volition, good for her. she should do it more. she should kill everyone who disagrees with her. she was locked in a basement and abandoned by the first person she met i think she deserves to kill and slaughter.

andddd end of post! again i am NOT, like, a practiced analyst. there are almost certainly things i got wrong during this, and feel free to bring those up in the comments! i will admit this got a bit out of hand and turned halfway into a gushing-about-nightmare post.

also i just want to reiterate that this analysis explores her motives and explains why she's Like That, and again i am not trying to say she's a precious cinnamon roll. just that she's got some reasons for doing what she does.

ALSO ALSO PLEASE DO NOT MAKE THIS POST ABOUT THE VOICES THIS POST IS ABOUT THE NIGHTMARE AND HER ITERATIONS!!! MAKE YOUR OWN POST!!!

alright! that's it! russet out!

[affirmationcosmos]

How Do Your Parents Feel About You?🤔

1

2

3

#1: Your parents think you're so funny 😂😂😂. When I was channeling their energy I got the vibe that you and them tend to have really great laughs together and that what makes you funny is when you say things with a straight face, it's really funny. I'm also getting that your parents are super happy that you are enjoying your life to the fullest and they are happy to see you become your best version.🫶🫶🫶

#2: Your parents like that you have taken the none traditional way to live your life because they have done the same and they see you doing it too, and they are happy to see it working out for you. The phrase "Ride your wave" may be significant to you. I'm also getting that your parents love that you stand ten toes down for yourself and what you believe in. They are proud of you for having such great conviction of your spirit and you always choose the high ground in situations.🌊🌊🌊.

#3: Your parents love your uniqueness. They Love your flare and your ability to make doing anything look so easy and effortless. They Love how genuine you are and how you continue to show up in the world as your best self. Your parents want you to know all worries are washed away and you are new so leap and fly into your new life!🕊️🕊️🕊️

[getvalentined]

Oh. Or maybe it didn't. LMAO. Also ValenStrife then! :D

Strifentine: I ship It

What made you ship it?

They are so similar and so different at the same time, their character dynamic has always meant the world to me. The thing that started it for me was Rocket Town, when Cloud sees the Tiny Bronco and starts getting all excited. Vincent looks at him for a second, then says "Should I keep watch?" He sees Cloud is into it, and immediately jumps to "I'll help you steal this if you like it that much." He met Cloud literally like a day ago. They have so much chemistry from the very start, and it just carries on from there.

Vincent is also the only person who, upon finding Cloud catatonic in Mideel, expresses concern and regard exclusively for Cloud. Literally the only one. Everyone else is worried about Tifa—only Vincent is worried about Cloud. I think that says a lot.

What are your favorite things about the ship?

Broken people learning how to be whole both for and because of each other is one of my favorite tropes, and Strifentine has that in spades. They just get each other.

I love how casual Cloud is after Vincent rescues him in AC, how candid Vincent is with Cloud, how neither of them put up with each other's shit and Cloud says his goodbye by giving a snarky little tease to Vincent about him not having a phone—and then Vincent's biggest concern is where to buy a phone. In Reminiscence, Vincent is the character that is enlisted to call Cloud, because Cloud will pick up for Vincent and everyone knows it. I live for their little chat in Dirge, where Tifa finally gets through to Vincent and immediately gives the phone to Cloud, who knows Vincent is immortal, but is worried about him; likewise, Vincent knows Cloud can kill a god, but he still tells him to be careful. They care about each other in a way that is unique to the two of them, kindred spirits who understand one another in a way that literally no one else can.

Also can we talk about how Cloud runs his hand over Vincent's coffin in Rebirth? The way he stares after him when Vincent stumbles back into his tomb after his transformation drops, a reverie that Barret has to physically smack him to break? The way Cloud immediately trusts Vincent to guide them through the Manor underground, the way Vincent trusts Cloud not to lose his old security pass? The way Vincent sweeps in to save Cloud from the Shadowblood Queen, their banter after the fact? There's that chemistry again! They're perfect for each other!

Is there an unpopular opinion you have on your ship?

Is this ship popular enough for that? Uhhh. My biggest unpopular opinion in most ships is that neither character is exclusively a top and neither is exclusively a bottom, so that's probably the case here too, but I don't actually know for sure. Vincent is more "toppy" in general—it's his default position—but Cloud is really only vers for Vincent, so there's probably a little butting heads in bed sometimes.

Based on what I have and haven't seen in fic and fandom, the idea that Cloud is into Vincent's monsters is a probably a big one too, at least on this side of the Pacific. But I also don't even cast 3/4 of Vincent's monsters as separate characters (that's a whole different unpopular opinion, but it's specific to Vincent rather than the ship) so it's really just different aspects of Vincent for Cloud to play with. And he plays with them. A lot. Monsterfucker Cloud supremacy.

From a fandom perspective, I personally think "Strifentine" is the best-sounding name for the ship out of the myriad of options we have. It's the one that's been in use in ENG fandom from the start, so my familiarity may be part of it; no shade to people who feel differently (including yourself! Obviously!) but I'm always gonna call it Strifentine.

[ to ship or not to ship ask game ]

[whatsriverreading]

HEAVEN OFFICIAL'S BLESSING - Mo Xiang Tong Xiu

This was a 5 stars reading for me. I absolutely loved this series. I've never been too into reading. I liked it and I've enjoyed some books here and there over the years, but I never got into reading as a daily activity, or as a hobby. I'm glad to say these books got me into it.

I've never known what to read, I didn't know what I liked, and not many books usually catch me enough to want to finish them. But back in September of last year, me and my friend were in this bookshop and we were just having a look at the books when we noticed TGCF manhua on the shelf. Lately, I had been seeing TGCF -a lot- in the stores (it just got translated and commercialized in Spain), and also I heard someone on TikTok talking about it, but I didn't know much about it. Just the title and nothing more. And then my friend said to me "I heard that this is about those gays you like", mf knows me so well cause immediately after getting home I searched about it and watched the donghua. Long story short, I didn't like it. I know, I know. I think the subtitles played a huge role in that, they were awful. Like bad bad. So, I finished watching the series and I understood a total of: nothing. But I was curious about it so I took my 11-year-old Kindle out of the back of my closet, put it to charge, went to the store cause the charger wasn't working, and got the first book. Girlypops when I tell you I ate this book, -I ATE- this book. 2 days and an empty hole inside me later I got the rest of the books and in about a month I finished the 8 of them. I found myself going to sleep at 4 am reading, giggling and rubbing my feet, I got back to my teenage years that month. I was reborn.

It's silly, charming, funny, hopeful, it's painful to read sometimes, it's sad, helpless, and extremely human. Every character is so well thought out, I loved them all (and that usually does not happen). Every character shows their goods and bads, they are complex and contradictory, with their own unique quirks. I could see myself in all of them; in those women who are never enough, never seen, never understood but also everyone needs. In Quan Yizhen who, to me, is clearly on the spectrum, and loses control and is always kinda lost, whom not many people want to understand. In Yin Yu hating someone he loves deeply, facing a punishment for his own actions, and coming to terms with the fact that what he idolized is completely rotten. And I could go on, yk.

But let me tell you something, the thing that I enjoyed the most, the thing that is -stuck- in my head and doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon... girl, the Black Water Arc. I don't think I need to elaborate. Book 4? You mean The Bible? I read that entire part 3 times plus another couple of quick reads for research, I analyzed every dialog, every interaction between Shi Qingxuan and Ming Yi, everything Xie Lian thought about them, everything. If I had a physical copy of the book it would be destroyed. It's been like 6 months and I think about them daily. And the fantastic fanfics I've read, my, my.

Anyway, this has been my introduction to danmei and oh mama the doors that have been opened for me! Hella good this series 100% recommended, and the manhua is so so so so pretty also 10/10. See ya!

[angeliteeyes]

More more with the Herta puppets. So I'm not sure I'd you know, but the trailblazer has actually, for some reason, picked up a Herta doll and tried to run away with it. And Madam herta was st first indignant about it but relented outta curiosity 10% and cause of the help with the simulated universe( if you haven't seen it, you can find it on hoyolab ir reddit). The thing is, Oni S/O is 100%, NOT cool with it. The herta puppets may find them annoying, sure, and its not even sure why, but it also sent a distress signal to them. So Oni S/O went Papa Wolf/Mama bear/Protective sibling, and the Trailblazer may now treat Sparkle with far more caution if her illusions can also do the same messed type of stuff Oni S/O's can. On another note, the Herta puppets are now tsundere like towards the Oni S/O, and you may or may not always see at least one puppet walking alongside them

Hehehe... I'm back on the Herta train y'all

(¬ ͜ ͡¬) feels good to come back to this series. Expect a lot of overdramatic jellyfish Herta, along with perhaps the most adorable puppet of all... popipo...

The Herta x Oni Reader - Puppet Rescue!!!

-> Masterlist with all Herta x Oni works

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ah, home sweet home. Admittedly, it kind of hurt your pride that Mei forced you to leave her behind in Penacony... but no worries! As long as you have your precious puppets to mess around with, you can wait. Especially now that you're heading over to see your favorite of them all (don't tell the others that, though).

Puppet #39. Despite how many people think of the several, similarly designed puppets as carbon copies, you've found that they're actually quite unique from one another. This one, for example, has a strange fascination with some digital idol she'd somehow managed to discover—what was their name again... Natsume Miki? No, last time you said that, 39 got really mad at you and stormed off, so probably not it. Well, whatever. You'll just ask them again once you find them.

So... where in the station did they head off to? You run around and around, calling out their name, yet to no avail. Strange, since you've always known them to remain in one room every single day, likely since it's the only one with a music player. Confused, you head over to your and Herta's—the real one's—room.

"Hertaaaaa, I'm home! Ya miss me?" You burst into the room, nearly stumbling to the ground from your speed and joy at the sight of your lover. She looks up at you, sprawled upside down from the side of your bed. For some reason, her face is fixed into a frown, or maybe more of a pout, as she begins to speak.

"Oh, so you finally remember your beloved life partner now that you've wasted twenty minutes running around like a stray dog? I offer you the chance of a lifetime to reunite with your long-lost sibling, and this is how you repay me? Hmph. Honestly, I should sign you up for some lessons in manners." Herta crosses her arms over her chest and turns away indignantly.

"Heh, sorry... I meant to come back sooner, it's just that I couldn't find 39 anywhere. Is she under maintenance or something?"

For a few seconds, she doesn't even speak. Not with her lips, at least; instead, her face does all the work as she turns back toward you with an agape mouth and stunned eyes.

"You can't be serious. You return to my space station—my space station—and you don't even come to see me first? Unbelievable! You're so... ugh, whatever. 39's not here, sorry to disappoint you."

You tilt your head to the side. "Not here?"

"The trailblazer seems to have taken a liking to them as well. They've been rather helpful, so I acquiesced and let them take her back aboard." She stares straight at you with an accusatory glare. "What, are you going to run off again? Don't expect me to let you back in if you do."

Jeez, you knew she had a jealous streak in her, but to this degree? If you go out and get 39 back, she might just actually kick you out for a while. Still... you close your eyes for a moment to ponder. Does she even want to come back in the first place? What if she's happier there, cruising across the vast landscapes of the universe? You pause to give your intuition its chance to weigh in. Right now, they're probably thinking...

[Help me.]

A voice rings through your head, and not your own. With a rush, you realize exactly who it belongs to: 39 herself. Huh, guess that answers your questions. With determination, you open your eyes and meet Herta's.

"I have to save her."

"Wha—Hey!" Before Herta can finish her angry shouting, you burst into a sprint towards the space station's exit. C'mon, you can't just let the poor puppet suffer. What kind of oni would you be if you didn't use your powers for the sake of protecting those you love? Speaking of powers...

You pull out your phone.

"Sparkle, you busy?"

If you had to pick the greatest perk of being a Masked Fool, having such a mischievous friend as Sparkle would easily be your answer. Not only do you get an awful lot of laughs, but she's also surprisingly dependable; that is, she's always willing to lend you a hand whenever you describe a task using words such as "fun" or "interesting". Today is no exception. As you go into details about your plan to steal 39 back, a hearty laughter rings out from your device.

"An opportunity to mess with the Nameless, huh? Oh, I can already imagine their shocked faces when they find out... hehe. Count me in."

-

The Astral Express is known to be welcome to just about any and all visitors. Whether it's for short trips or those who wish to stay for the long haul, the train is so much more than just a machine; it's a home to countless of travelers. Puppet #39, though, doesn't quite see it this same way.

"This place sucks. I want to go back home." She glares up at the Trailblazer, who she now sees as her arch nemesis for taking her away from her precious music player. Said nemesis awkwardly places their hand on the back of their head.

"C'mon, it's not that bad here, is it?"

"It is. And you're weird. Bring me back to the station now."

It took everything in your power not to burst out into tearful laughter at the glorious scene your ears are bearing witness to. It's nice to know that 39's blunt word choices weren't just limited to you, at least. Unfortunately, though, making that much noise would definitely blow your cover. As you wait for the right moment to strike, their one-sided bickering session continues on. For what seems like ages, 39 drones on with complaints with her signature monotone voicebox while the other struggles to appease her. Seriously, what's taking her so long to—

"Heyyyyy! Open up already, I have something to show you!" A certain loud-mouthed girl begins to bang on their door, putting an end to their little spat. You hold your breath and curl tighter into your hiding spot. Meanwhile, the Trailblazer peeks out of their door. A confused expression marks their face.

"March? What's going on?" Instead of responding with words, she instead opts to tug at their raised hand, a motion that pulls their whole body out into the open. The lady smirks down at them as they rapidly try to regain their balance before continuing to drag them along like a poor ragdoll. Well, calling them "poor" is a bit generous, seeing how they stole your precious companion... Still, you watch intently as the two scurry off into the opposite direction. You pay even more attention to the girl's grinning mouth.

"Your turn."

Perfect. Looks like the first half of your plan worked out, now just the hard part: actually getting 39 to leave with you. Who knows how much trouble that little runt's going to cause, though. Seriously... if they weren't so entertaining, you'd probably still be at the station. You sigh. It's hard work being such a kind, considerate person. But of course, since you're the greatest oni anyway, this is a piece of cake.

Step. Step. Step. Slowly but surely, you make your way over to the ajar bedroom door and creak it open. In front of you remains the still extremely bitter (but adorable) 39, facing away from you. You hear her huff.

"I refuse to stay here."

"Then come with me, silly."

It takes a little while for your words to process in her cute puppet head, but when they do, she practically jumps out of her metal skin. She turns to face you with an unreadable expression. You start to shift your legs back and forth under her gaze. Maybe you were right earlier to think that she wouldn't come with you. Sure, she's been whining at them nonstop, but it's not like she didn't do the same exact thing with you back home. Maybe—

A sudden clash startles you out of your thoughts. Clutching onto you tightly, you realize, is none other than the very puppet that always claims to despise you. Yet here she is, burying herself into you quietly. Seriously, what a cutie pie. No wonder she was your favorite.

"...You're better than that weirdo, I guess. Let's go."

-

Surprisingly, Herta didn't seem to make good on their prior threat. Y'know, the one to lock you out and all. Still, as you walk in hand in hand with 39, you catch the way she glares at your intertwined fingers, and a chill runs down your spine. There's no way she's not giving you crap for this later, probably for the rest of your life.

And now she's walking away without a word towards your shared room. You apologize to 39 before hurrying to catch up with Herta's quick strides. You can already feel the anger seeping out of her (as well as hear it with how loudly she's stomping) but push on anyway. She silently makes her way into said room and you, despite the tension, trail in from behind.

"Hey, Herta... you still mad at me?" You try to break the tension with a lighter tone, yet regret it once she gifts you a scornful scowl.

"Wrong. Try again."

You think. "Um... I'm sorry?" Her expression grows even more disdainful and frustrated.

"Closer, but that's not what I'm looking for."

As you examine her more extensively, you notice a deeper emotion beyond just petty anger. It's hidden pretty well, yet the sweat droplet rolling down her skin plus her eyes darting from side to side tell you the truth about what she's feeling. With an exhale, you finally find the right words to soothe her worries.

"I missed you, Herta."

She doesn't express it verbally, but a weight visibly lifts off her body once you utter those words. You smile. For someone so renowned for her intelligence, she sure can be childish sometimes. But that's not an issue; after all, you're hardly any better.

"Well obviously you would miss me! Anyone whose eyes have been blessed with my beauty would feel the same way. It's only natural." Her signature grandiose tone kicks back into gear, much to your delight. She's a lot cuter this way.

"Right, right. Can we go to bed now? I'm sleepy." With a bright grin, she agrees and you two make yourselves comfy within the pink sheets of your bed. You decide that you won't tease her about her extra-tight grip on your form... at least, not until tomorrow morning.

-

A knocking sound at your bedroom door reverberates and stirs you out of your sleep. Curious and confused, you make your way over to the door, opening it to find...

"39?" You stare at her, perplexed. What could she possibly want this early in the morning? From the uncharacteristic twiddling of her fingers, she seems to be having trouble communicating her thoughts. Funny, considering how she normally treats you.

"You. Come with me." Refusing to elaborate, she drags you across the station's halls into her favorite room. Placed within it are her music player, a chair, and a new, full-length mirror. It's only when you two reach her seat that she lets go of your wrist and plops herself down. Then, she points to a set of colorful hair ties.

"Make me have pigtails." Despite her demanding words, her robotic cheeks flush with a color you didn't know they were capable of being. Vaguely, you start to recall her beloved idol and her hairstyle. With a gasp, you raise your voice.

"Don't tell me, are you trying to have the same hairstyle as that Natsume Miki girl?!"

"That's not her name!"

Unbeknownst to you, a collection of other puppets linger at the door. They totally aren't listening in on you or anything! They're just... curious, that's all. Yeah. Who would be jealous of 39 for getting to have you play with their hair? Certainly not them! That's what they'll say to themselves and anyone who asks, at least, as they stick to your side like glue the following day.

You try not to act too smug the first time one of them not-so-subtly complains about a nonexistent tangle. Who says you can't have more than one favorite?

[zorosangell]

I wanna read about kata so bad 😞🖐

Uhhh what do you think about jealous katakuri, like the other siblings are a bit flirtatious towards the reader and it makes him a little jealous or sth, I don't even know

⛥ﾟ・。 rooftop

SECRET BONUS/prequel to pocus -- when cacker gets a little too vocal about his admiration for you, katakuri becomes furious, and begins to genuinely consider the option of fratricide. luckily, you're able to talk him (and suck him) off the ledge... aka the story of Latte and Frappe's conception.

cw: nsfw, fluff, comfort, angst if you squint, lovesick katakuri, lovesick reader, he is thirty, you are twenty-nine, soda is six, cocoa is three, reader is a sweetheart, cracker's a creep

By no means could Katakuri ever genuinely hate his brothers.

They were his family... his blood, and for the better majority of his life, some of the closest companions he'd ever had—only companions, given the general didn't have many to begin with.

They'd seen him through thick and thin, been at his side through countless battles, and accepted him as his true self without issue—past the usual teasing that came with having a surplus of siblings.

But... if there was one thing that could change his mind on the sentiment... it was his wife.

And the way his brother was drooling over her right now.

"God-damn!" Cracker gaped, eyes bulging out his sockets and tongue nearly lulling out his mouth as you entered his view, gracefully. "Just when you think she can't get any hotter!"

Sharply, your husband's eyes flicked to him, brows cinched in a disapproving furrow as he knew exactly who his brother was looking at without even having to check.

"Watch it," he warned, firmly, arms crossed tightly over his chest.

"Oh, I'm watchin', all right."

The purple-haired man cheesed, utterly pleased as his eyes followed you toward sweets table.

Or, more accurately, your body.

Like a dog with a bone, he stared, mesmerized, as you made your way over, hips looking ripe and tender for the grabbing.

After a recent vacation to Snack Island, you'd developed a delectably smooth tan, the expensive lotions he was sure you used giving your skin an alluring shine.

Eye roaming over your body, he took in the deep, wine red of your dress, which hugged your form beautifully and exposed your smooth leg in a rather high slit, not to mention the gold bangles and jewelry that adorned your ears, neck, and wrists.

You looked good enough to eat—even more than endless variety of treats surrounding him.

"Mama! Cupcake!" Cocoa pointed, dazzled by the staggeringly tall tower of confections as she tugged at your hand.

You nodded, happily, adjusting one of her flyaways as a small smile broke out onto your face.

"Yes, honey, those are cupcakes," you confirmed with a giggle. "Do you want one?"

Frantically, she nodded, excitement etched clearly across her tiny face.

"Look! They even got chocolate!" Soda grinned, letting go of your other hand and using his taller reach to grab two, handing one off to his younger sister. "Here, Co! Try it."

Confused, the little girl examined the dessert with a raised brow.

"Chocwate?" she asked, poking the frosting.

"It's good," Soda assured, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me."

With your assistance, she removed the wrapper, before slowly raising the treat to her lips.

But, just as she was about to take a bite, her tiny grip accidentally loosened, the cupcake falling and landing frosting first on the brightly colored ground.

Saddened, she stared at it, lip jutting out in a pout and eyes already becoming glassy.

"My chocwate..." she teared up, disappointment weighing heavy in her tone as her lip began to wobble.

"Oh, honey, don't worry. We can—"

"It's okay. You can have mine," Soda assured.

Quickly, he peeled the wrapper off his cupcake, carefully handing it over and watching as his sister took a bite.

And instantly, she lit up with wonder, unseen galaxies now visible in front of her eyes as the rich, unique flavor danced on her tongue.

It was nothing like she'd ever tasted before.

"Yummy!" she gasped, wasting no time in finishing off the rest of the confection.

"You think that's good?" Soda smirked, taking her hand before starting off toward the other buffet. "Wait until you try a chocolate chip cookie!"

"Cookie?" she raised a brow, her small legs doing their best to keep up with him.

"You're gonna love it! It's got a ton of chocolate!"

"Chocwate!"

She needed no more convincing, and was now completely on board with the plan.

"Don't get any chocolate on her dress, Soda!" you called after them. "And don't get any on your suit, either!"

"Yes, Mama!" he replied, the two not even bothering to turn back as they set their sights on another large table of snacks, Cocoa giggling all the way.

You couldn't help but smile at the display, forcing Cracker to instantly clutch his chest with an iron grip, as if he had been shot.

You were a vision, the paragon of beauty and grace—and hotness.

What he wouldn't give to have just one—

"You keep looking at my wife like that, Cracker, and we are going to have a problem."

Katakuri seethed, tone deadly calm as his eyes sharpened like daggers, staring his younger brother down with a furious glare.

His jaw ticked as he watched the man gaze upon you, his expression displaying his thoughts clearly as he practically undressed and fucked you with his eyes.

In an instant, his chest began to smolder with a rage reserved only for when matters concerned you, the feeling akin to a third-degree burn as it began to rise up his throat and sting his tongue.

It was obvious to anyone with working eyes that you were a gorgeous woman, and if one was truly being honest, it would not be far fetched to say that at any given time there were probably ten other men eyeing you up in the same exact way .

Obviously, that fact didn't make Katakuri jump for joy—no man enjoys watching his wife be gawked at and lusted after.

But the sting felt different when it was one of his kin doing the hounding.

His fellow crewmate... his brother... his blood.

He knew Cracker was a bit of a sleaze in terms of women, but over the years he'd hoped the man would mellow out and dial back his outspoken attraction toward you.

For respect's sake, at least.

But, alas, seeing his brother objectify you so openly and comfortably gave Katakuri the honest motivation to think of the unthinkable...

'One brother gone wouldn't be so bad...'

"Careful, Cracker," Oven chuckled, amused by the sight before him as he and Daifuku made their way over. "Don't need haki to see that you've got a jellybean in your future."

"Or a trident," Daifuku sniggered right along. "Whichever comes first."

"I'm just sayin' what were all thinkin'," Cracker smirked, tossing an arm around the Minister of Flour—which was promptly shrugged off, "Katakuri, brother, you have got to be the luckiest bastard in the world. Your wife is the prettiest chick at this event."

His brows furrowed, the pink-haired man staving off an eye roll.

He knew that.

Obviously he knew that

That was like telling him the sky was blue or the sun was yellow.

It was a fact that was irrefutable, and one he didn't need reminding of—especially from Cracker.

The man who was dangerously nearing the edge of Katakuri's patience.

Luckily, his haki predicted an angel of diplomacy swooping in to save his brother's hide.

"Hello, boys," you greeted, kindly, your voice as smooth as sun-warmed honey as it seeped into your husband's ears.

"Hello, (y/n)," the brothers greeted in unison—save for Katakuri—each one sharing their own knowing looks.

"You look lovely this evening, my dear," Daifuku complimented before Cracker could say something crude.

"Thank you. You all look very dashing as well," you smiled, gaze flicking over to your husband, who was oddly quiet. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Actually—"

"Not at all," Oven interjected, slapping his hand over Cracker's mouth. "You need something? Is everything all right?"

"Oh, everything's fine," you assured, waving him off. "I was just hoping I could steal my husband away for a moment, if that's okay."

Katakuri could not have moved faster if he tried.

"Let's go," he quickly stated, his hand settling in its place at the small of your back as he ushered you away, not so much as offering a glance toward the brothers he was leaving behind.

"Damn..." Cracker sighed, still muffled by Oven's hand as his eyes trailed down to your ass. "Hate to see her leave, but I love to watch her—"

Instantly, his two older brothers hit him upside the head, the combined force knocking the Minister of Biscuits out.

"Really... I can't tell if he's drunk or just stupid," Daifuku sighed, disappointed.

"Katakuri's patience can only run so thin," Oven stated as he tossed his little brother over his shoulder. "Best to keep the two apart before he murders him in front of the guests."

Raising a brow, he glanced at Cracker, whose face was still contorted in a rather pervy expression despite being unconscious.

Annoyed, he groaned, rolling his eyes as he turned to walk away.

"On the contrary... a good ass-kicking might teach him a thing or two... little creep."

As you led your husband to a hidden, more secluded part of the rooftop on the Whole Cake Chateau, he couldn't help but be hit with a sudden bout of confusion.

You were acting very odd.

Cryptic... secretive... unable to keep yourself from smirking.

It was unlike you, and beginning to make him worry.

But before he could even open his mouth, you pulled down his scarf to kiss him, roughly, pressing him firmly against the wall.

"(y... /n)!" Katakuri gasped into it, eyes wide as his back hit the hard surface, your kisses trailing down to his jaw and neck.

Slowly, you dragged your teeth over the skin of his collarbone, sending a shiver up his spine as you looked up at him with hooded eyes.

He swallowed hard, a sudden buzz jolting through his chest, twisting his stomach with knots of arousal.

"(y/n)... the ceremony is going to start..." he stumbled as he tugged his scarf back up, instinctively resting his hands on your hips, face growing hot as your lips trailed down his bare chest.

"How long?" you sultrily asked, nipping at the flesh of his pectoral before slowly lowering to his stomach.

He cursed under his breath at the sensation, quickly shifting his gaze to the sky as he took a deep inhale.

If he looked at you, he was going to get impossibly hard.

"...Tw-enty minutes!" he gritted out, taken aback as you began to palm him through his leather pants, his dick painfully sensitive.

A devilish smirk curled on your lips as your other hand hooked into his belt, gently undoing it before slowly pulling his pants down to his ankles.

He watched you loop your hands through his boxers, body on fire.

He'd never get over the sight of you, never lose the rush that coursed through his veins every time he looked at you.

"You're so beautiful..." he muttered to himself, unaware that he said his thought aloud.

But the sweet compliment went unnoticed.

You were to busy gaping at his cock as you released it from its prison.

No matter how many times you saw it, the sight would always leave you salivating.

He was big, thick, and extremely hard, his bulbous, pink head dripping in pre that dribbled enticingly down his thick shaft, where a couple veins throbbed under the tender skin of his cock.

He kept himself trimmed, each pink-purple hair cut short but curly like the faint hairs on his happy trail.

From his cock hung two heavy balls, soft, sinewy with pink hair, and holding all the cum he held for you and you alone.

He relished in your gaze, feeling like the sexiest man in the world.

"We got time," you cooed. "Right now... I wanna show you who I belong to."

You started by spitting all over his cock, causing him to groan at the sight of your saliva dripping over his shaft and balls.

Then you began to stroke him, having to use both hands because he was just too damn big for one.

Katakuri's toes curled while his head tipped back, eyes screwing shut.

"Shit!" he hissed under his breath, doing a poor job at withholding his sounds of pleasure.

Your soft, smaller hands felt so good stroking his big dick.

Every move you made caused his body to tingle, his cells coming alive from the pleasure you were giving him.

The lewd, wet sounds of your hands stroking his wet cock didn't do him any good either.

Especially when you finally wrapped your lips around him.

Katakuri's eyes nearly bulged out of his skull the minute he felt your soft lips and wet tongue wrap around him, turning all kinds of tricks and skills on his dick.

Flicking, licking, sucking.

"F-Fuck," he groaned, pawing at the wall beneath his gloved fingertips.

He's never been treated so well.

'Looks so good on her knees like this...'

He blushed red at the lewd thought.

He shouldn't be thinking of you in such a horrible way!

But the way you were sucking on his dick and taking him in your throat was making him think different.

You gripped the base of his cock with one hand as you opened your throat for him, taking him as deep as you could go.

The gagging sounds that slipped from your pretty throat nearly made him cum, especially combined with the way it tightened around him.

So wet... so tight...

"F-Fuck... (y/n)!" he groaned, his strong fingers creating indents against the thick wall. "Gonna... cum soon!"

You hummed appreciatively, nodding your head.

The way it bobbed caused his cock to brush against the roof of your mouth, sending tingles throughout his dick.

"Cum for me, Kuri," you urged, speeding up your stroking until his toes were curling and his thighs were shaking. "Cum all over my face."

You went back to eagerly sucking him off, slurping him down like it would be your last meal.

His balls began to tighten, already feeling himself reach his peak.

You looked up at Katakuri, finding his eyes locked with yours, pink hairs and sweat sticking to his forehead.

And your lustful expression was the last thing he needed to push him off the edge.

He came, spilling his seed in your mouth without warning, a moan of your name and a whine of ecstasy leaving his lips as he did.

You felt his cum stream inside your mouth, warm and overflowing.

So much so that some began to spill, your eyes widening as it dribbled out the corners of your lips and down your face, dripping off your chin and onto the floor.

The sight so lewd, yet so arousing.

"(y/n)... that was... you were..." he panted, shoulders relaxing into the wall as he let out a heavy sigh. "Are you all right?"

You gave him a warm smile, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before standing back on your feet and returning his package to his pants, zipping him up and redoing his belt before placing a kiss on his lips.

"I am fine, my love," you stared into his eyes, lovingly, placing a few more pecks across his face, his skin burning with each touch.

"You didn't have to do this," he stated, solemnly, arms wrapping around your body and pulling you close. "You shouldn't be on your knees for me."

Your gaze softened, hand rising to gently cup his cheek, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone as your forehead pressed against his, "Kuri, nearly ten years and you still have yet to realize just how much I adore you."

Slowly, your hands slid down to rest on his chest, the man nearly letting out a groan at the drag of your nails, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"I saw how Cracker was being... and how angry you were... and I wanted remind you that everything about me—my body... my mind... my soul—belongs to you, Kuri. There's no man or brother in this world that could ever turn me away from you. You are the father of my children, my beautiful husband, and I love you with all my heart."

Katakuri blinked at you, shocked.

He would never, ever admit it to anybody—including you—but for a moment he felt just about ready to shed a tear.

No one had ever said something so loving to him before, or with such passion.

It only tripled the size of his heart, creating more space for you to monopolize and rule over, effectively, until it finally bursts one day.

Without warning, the man suddenly scooped you up, relishing your gasp of surprise as you threw your arms around his neck, eyes slightly wide.

"Kuri, what are you—?"

"Where are the children?" he asked, quickly, intense eyes glancing down at you.

"Playing with Smoothie, Citron, and Cinnamon," you answered, breathless and slightly confused.

He nodded, quickly turning around to sneak toward the back entrance of the Chateau.

"Good," he nodded, voice low and sultry with a tone that only came out when he was truly in the mood. "We'll return for them after the ceremony."

Suspicious, you raised a brow.

"Why...? ...Where are we going?"

Knowingly, his gaze flicked to you, his eyes glazed over with a look that could only be attributed to complete and utter carnal desire.

He didn't even have to say anything.

The half of his expression that you could see was already half-lidded and dark, practically burning your face from his inside out as you realized what trouble you'd just gotten yourself into.

"Oh."

Of course, it was a surprise to no one that the twins were born nine months after the fact.